


Sonder

by yoshi09



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Zayn Malik & Harry Styles Friendship, the Zayn/Liam is minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4598763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshi09/pseuds/yoshi09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “isn’t it weird to think that someone might have caught you in the background of a photograph of somebody else. and you don’t know them and they don’t know you, but maybe that photo is framed on a desk or stuck in a photo album. and you were just going about your life, but you’re also somehow a part of the life of this stranger you’ve never met, forever connected by that one photograph”</p><p>---</p><p>Harry is a student who pays for tuition through photography, Zayn is his roommate who supports his friend's creative talent, even if it means listening to him talk about photos of a stranger he saw in California who he is sure he fell in love with once, maybe, in another life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

 

> _**sonder**  - n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own._

 

“Shots were good today?”

Harry hummed in affirmation as he sat at his desk and plugged his camera into the USB cord at the same time.

“Really?” Zayn reiterated from where he lay on his bed, book he was reading to the side as he watched his roommate wake his computer up. “You mean the girl Lani recommended actually wasn’t an amatuer.”

“Lani is a good judge of character. And any friend of hers...” Harry trailed off, distracted as he typed in his password, pressed enter, and was met with an error message. “Ah, fuck, changed my password last night-- Zayn--?”

Zayn nodded toward the calendar. “July, the number 28 and twenty fifteen spelled out. Exclamation point at the end.”

Harry typed in what was instructed and pressed enter again, this time his computer unlocking. “Love you.” Harry murmured, swivelling his desk chair around to give Zayn one of his dimpled smiles.

Zayn smiled back. “I told you sentences would be easier to remember. All those random number and letter combinations makes you think like a computer, also makes you easier to hack.”

“Not all of us can be computer programmers, eh?”

“I’m a software engineer. There’s a difference. One day you’ll piss me off enough that I’ll wipe your internal drive.”

Harry wiggled his eyebrows. “Sounds fun.” He turned around.

Zayn looked like he was going to tell him how that was a bad thing, not a sexual innuendo, but the moment was already lost, and Harry was already loading pictures onto his desktop. There was a random assortment of file folders on his screen ranging from dates (whatever order Harry uses to arrange these files is a language only he could understand) to cryptic descriptions like: “mousepad” (you open that, and you get pictures of girls on the beach during golden hour that Harry shot for his “Watercolor Diluted” series) and “Suzuki” (not a girl’s name or the car brand, actually just a bunch of hands in various lighting). But past all that, set as a wallpaper, was a photo of a boy.

It didn’t mean anything the first time Zayn saw it-- Harry had a tendency to put up a photo as a wallpaper or a screensaver to remind him of a set he was working on for a photo story, but after two months of the wallpaper set on the same photo Zayn couldn’t help but be curious. Harry was busy, sure, compared to most other photographers he was acquainted with, being an ambitious student who wanted to pursue Law and English but couldn’t choose between the two so settled on _both_ , but even his most painful of paid shoots took maybe a month to finish editing and compiling. He could get a preview up for a client in a matter of hours, he could live edit in minutes for them, and finished most everything in two days just to get it out of the way. The paid ones anyway.

His personal photo shoots, Zayn noticed, took much longer. Two to three weeks average, a preview being the only thing quick that he sent off to his models just to appease them. Personal shoots he preferred because the models were usually his friends, the relationship evident between photographer and client. His best work, came from these.

Which brings Zayn’s attention back to the wallpaper Harry had up for almost half a year now. Who was this guy? Zayn knew most of Harry’s friends, certainly all the ones he worked with, that came with being Harry’s roommate and sometimes model, but he had never seen this guy, or heard Harry drop a name for him since he put it up nearly six months ago.

The thing that irked Zayn the most though, was that this photo wasn’t even that good. The young man in them was good looking enough for what was clearly a candid shot, but beyond that, the framing was atrocious and the lighting could do with some casual balancing. Nothing tough. This picture was a raw.

“So,” Zayn opened, while Harry opened a couple of the shots he took that evening. The pictures opened to hide the cluttered foreground of folders, the mystery boy’s face hidden beneath,

“Her name is Erin.” Harry interrupted, clearly not hearing Zayn, “If she was a couple centimeters taller she could get into the fashion industry easy. Didn’t need any direction, she just moved. A natural model. She also bought me a drink after--”

“Probably to get in your pants.”

Harry shrugged, not bothering to deny. It wasn’t the first time his models wanted to sleep with him. Harry slept with two of them, stopped after it complicated working relationships. He didn’t want sleeping with clients to be a reputation that preceded him. But that was another story. “She’s sweet. Cute, but more Lani’s type. I think she’s straight though.”

“That one’s really good.” Zayn commented idly as he watched Harry scroll through the photos. Harry went back two photos.

“This one?”

“No, the one before it. The silhouette.”

Harry went back one more photo. Nodded. “A little dark, I’ll fix it.” He smiled over his shoulder at him, “Should have you compile some from my other shoots. Make a story on the site called: ‘Zayn.’”

“That’d be fun.” He meant it.

“I’m shooting next month in LA. In the desert. You should come.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow. Harry rarely invited him to a shoot unless he was the one he was shooting. “Are they flying you?”

“No. Out of pocket expenditure. Excuse to go see Niall.”

Niall. “Oh! Blond pixie.”

Harry chuckled, “Forgot you called him that. He’d be happy to know despite all the shit we went through during Burning Man, you remember him as the blond pixie.”

“He let me draw wings on his back and kept them the entire festival. And he’s blond.” Harry hummed noncommittally, already choosing a photo and running it through some premade filters he made himself and saving it into a file Zayn was too far away to read. “Does he still room with that fit bloke though? Liam?”

Even though he couldn’t see Harry’s face, he could tell he was smirking. “Yes.”

Zayn nodded, laying back down to continue reading. He lasted all of 10 seconds before he said, “What dates should I book?”

Harry laughed.

“What? I’m not completely sure if I’m bisexual yet. We just kissed. And it wasn’t even a real one. I need to make sure.”

“You need to spend a thousand pounds for a roundtrip ticket to make sure?”

He put his book down. “Okay, then what about you?”

“What about me?”

“The fuck is the story behind the awkwardly angled photo and the piss poor framing that’s your background?”

Harry visibly stiffened, and just like that the mood in the room changed.

“S’just a photo.”

“Yeah?” Zayn sat up on his elbows.

He watched as Harry scrolled through the pictures, quicker this time, too fast for him to really be seeing anything. “Yeah.” he said, a beat too late for it to be passed off for casual distraction.

“Not part of a set then?”

Harry shook his head, still scrolling.

Zayn usually wasn’t one to prod more than Harry was willing to share, but he had the impression that his roommate wanted him to, this time.

So Zayn decided to hit hard.

“You have mind blowing sex with him and he didn’t call you back?” Zayn asked, meaning it, but saying it flippantly enough it could be passed off as a joke.

He heard Harry exhale softly through his nose, like a light chuckle, the pictures scrolling slowing as if Harry was actually looking at the photos now. “Not even.”

“Right then.” He got up so he sat cross-legged, giving Harry the impression of being fully attentive if Harry decided to turn around. “Tell Zaynie the story.”

“S’nothing.” Harry muttered, clamping up again.

“Half a year on your background. Not even part of a set? You broke your habit. It’s something.”

Harry stopped scrolling, as if Zayn finally cornered him into telling the truth. He spun around in his chair to face him and Zayn was ready, putting his chin on steepled fingers, looking the picture of supportive, encouraging friend. He even fluttered his lashes prettily to make Harry chuckle and loosen the mood.

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Don’t laugh at me, okay?”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think, Harry.”

Harry threw a pen at him. Zayn slapped it out of the air without even blinking. “Stop stalling.”

“Okay. So. You ever think about, multiple lives? Universes?”

Zayn nodded slowly, trying to keep up with Harry’s thought process. “We still talking about your background?”

“Yeah.”

Zayn grinned. “Oh, this is good then.”

Harry didn’t look amused. “I’m being serious.”

“I know. I’m listening.”

Harry looked at him for a second, as if considering, and then continued, “This photo was taken in Venice. California.” He leaned forward onto his knees, looking earnestly into Zayn’s eyes and Zayn thought Harry wasn’t his type, not even a little bit, but in that moment Zayn was pretty damn sure he was bi. “California, Zayn. First time I been there. I never met him. But,” he looked down, licked his lips, and when he looked back up at Zayn his eyes were sparkling. _Sparkling_. Ridiculous. “I knew him.”

Harry didn’t say anything else for a solid three seconds, so Zayn assumed it was his turn to say something. “Are you sure you didn’t just see him on the metro or something?”

Harry furrowed a brow, clearly frustrated by his response. What had he expected? “No. I didn’t. This is the first time I’ve seen him. I’m sure of it. Face like that, I’d remember--” and Zayn knew that at least, Harry had an excellent memory for faces, particularly ones he liked. “But I knew him. He knew me too.”

“‘He knew you too?’”

Harry spun around his chair and Zayn almost apologized, not knowing what he said to have offended him when all he did was repeat what Harry stated, but he bit back what he was going to say because Harry was turning back to him again, another photo up on the screen. Same boy. Definitely taken right after the one set as his wallpaper. Also more sexual. It was the eyes.

 

Adjust the light balance on this and slap on “GUESS” on the corner and this candid could go into a magazine. And that was Zayn being objective. He had a nice face, he didn’t have to be bicurious to see that.

“He knew me too.” Harry said quietly, interrupting Zayn’s thoughts.

Zayn tried to school his expression to neutral and hoped it worked. Harry was looking at him expectantly. “Look, Harry…” he began and he could almost see Harry deflate at his apologetic tone. He went on anyway, “It looks like this guy is just photogenic and maybe thought you were fit. But there’s not really any recognition I’m getting…”

“The photo didn’t capture it.” Harry looked genuinely frustrated, he ran a hand through his long hair. “But I know we knew each other. Too stupid to do something about it though.” Harry leaned back in the chair, looked at the ceiling, “Felt something. Looking at him. Felt like… felt familiar. I don’t know.” He inhaled deeply, let it out slow. They sat in silence for a moment. “Didn’t think about it. Was just taking beach shots, you know? Felt someone looking at me. Looked up.”

Zayn could see Harry remembering the moment, watched as he closed his eyes as if the memory was brighter in the darkness. “He was looking at me, like he couldn’t place me. Not like, ‘I know you from somewhere’ just… it’s hard to explain. But the instant I looked at him, I knew him. From somewhere. I know how stupid it sounds, Zayn.” he laughed, and it sounded heartbroken. Zayn swallowed, not knowing what to say. “But I feel we shared something, once. Or maybe not this life, maybe we will share something. Not sure. Just… Never met him, just knew. He looked away. I took a photo. Didn’t think about it.” he whispered again, “Just thought I should. Zoomed in. He looked back at me then. That’s this photo.” he gestured vaguely at the screen, eyes still closed. “Click. Then someone must’ve called him into the hotel room or something. Gone.”

He opened his eyes, back from the memory, back from California, back to their shared room. Still far away though.

“What do you think it means, Zayn?”

Zayn gave Harry a long measured look. “I think,” he started slowly, “it means you’re not as straight as you claim you are.”

Harry barked a laugh.

Zayn smiled softly. “At least in another life you aren’t.”

Harry rolled his neck to look at him, glance appreciative.

Zayn continued. “Maybe in another life, you meet? That the reason you feel this way, is that somewhere, someplace, your love is so strong it transcends, you know? Can’t contain into one world, overflows into other dimensions. Like this one.”

Harry smiled, eyes warm, dimples deep.

“Maybe you get together.” Zayn leaned back onto his headboard, stretched his legs out before him. “Alternate universes aren’t too crazy when you think about all the other shit going on.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Maybe he breaks your heart. Maybe you break his.” He shrugged again, feeling a little useless.

“Maybe it works.” Harry added.

“Maybe.”

They were quiet again, sharing the silence in comfort.

“Thanks, Zayn.”

Zayn chuckled, smile a little forced. “For what?”

“For not making me feel stupid.”

He smiled, this time it reached his eyes. “We creative types have to stick together. Even if it’s a chore.”

“ _Maybe_ Liam is straight--”

Zayn threw a pillow at Harry and Harry caught it, laughing. “Fuck you, Harry.” he managed through his own laugh, “In another universe he’s straight, maybe. But in this universe he’s as gay as Niall.”

Harry glanced at the screen again. “I hope we’re happy.”

“Who?”

“Me and him.” Harry pointed at the picture again. “That in the universe where we know each other, we’re happy. Whatever relationship it is.”

“Love. Definitely.” Zayn said easily. “Fucking. Lots of fucking.”

Harry giggled. Actually giggled.

“No joke, if he affects you like that, and you never met. It has to be love in the other universe.”

“What do you think his name is?” Harry asked, eyes back on the screen. He was biting his nail idly.

Yeah. Definitely love. “I don’t know, you give him one. You’re the one in love with him in some parallel world.”

“I’m biased. You give him one.” he deferred.

Zayn shrugged, picked the first name that came up. “He looks like a Tom.”

“Tom?” Harry looked offended. “What a boring name--”

Zayn spoke over him. “Tom. Tommy. Tommo. Something like that.”

“Tommo?” Harry laughed.

“Has a nice ring to it.” Zayn picked his book back up again. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yeah.” Harry looked at the photo again for a heart achingly long moment, and Zayn felt ridiculous, like he was intruding so he looked down at the pages of his book again, and the next time he glanced up he was thankful Harry was back to editing the new model-- Erin.

“Liam, straight.” he chuckled quietly to himself. “Worst joke you told yet, Styles.”

 

* * *

 

 

Prompt credit: ([x](http://nialljustgotwet.tumblr.com/post/63498973404/isnt-it-weird-to-think-that-someone-might-have))

The photo Harry has as his background in this fic is this: ([x](http://33.media.tumblr.com/6c23ed711f60cfc84e88e7be3dc31108/tumblr_inline_mp6q9eeMpO1qz4rgp.jpg))

Photo image credit is from: ([x](http://liloury.tumblr.com/post/81826393918/louis-candida-are-basically-a-photo-shoot-and-the))

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate universe mention of our universe in an alternate universe, yeah, I know, I like to break all the rules. Kudos let authors know you liked it.


	2. Serendipity

 

 

 

> **serendipity** \- _n. the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way._  

“California,” Zayn said, looking speculatively at the gray sky outside the window, brows furrowed, because even in overcast California managed to look bright. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain in California.”

“Perfect weather all the time and you shot on one of the ten days it rains year round.” Niall said cheekily to them from the driver’s seat. Well, mostly to Harry. Zayn hadn’t been Niall’s type since he kissed Liam at Burning Man, and Harry was 100% not sexually interested in Niall, which made him exactly Niall’s type. Zayn will never understand him-- the blond pixie even had aviators perched on his nose and, yeah, California was sunny, but now?

“This isn’t rain, Zayn,” Harry responded, smiling a little at the unintended rhyme. He wasn’t self-conscious about Niall glancing across his shoulder at him in the passenger seat every time he said something, Niall’s eyes shining like Harry was brilliant and hilarious. And he was, just, not all the time. Zayn leaned forward to pat Niall on the shoulder absentmindedly while Harry went on, “This is…” Harry gestured at the window where the rain was falling so lightly even on the freeway it only dotted the windshield with vague constellations and Niall didn’t bother to use the wiper, “more like spitting.”

Zayn laughed because it was true.

“Should be thankful you finished the shoot before it started, though.” Niall added, “Right, Harry?”

“Two English imports and one of the coolest guys in LA and we’re talking about the _weather_?” Perrie asked, next to him.

Perrie was fit, in the dark-eyeliner, nose-and-belly piercing, lilac-hair, alternative kind of way and Harry’s desert shoot model. She also happened to be Niall’s best friend, which probably made her one of the coolest people in LA by association. Niall and Perrie were expatriates, but unlike Niall whose Irish accent was as thick as the day he was born, Perrie absorbed urban California in the way that only people looking to get away from their home country can, the only trace of her English roots in the lilt of a few words and the way her questions sounded at the end. Though as lovely as she was, Zayn didn’t spend over a thousand pounds to get here and find out if Perrie was into long distance relationships-- no matter how many times she bumped into his arm and just leaned on him because the California roads sucked. He saw easily through her excuse to touch him, he wasn’t daft, there was plenty of room on her side and a car handhold to grip and steady herself. He was still flattered, though.

Harry turned around in his seat, camera to his face and took another snapshot of Perrie, the angle as such that a part of Zayn had to have gotten in the shot too. Perrie was Harry’s perfect model because she acted as if the camera wasn’t there, listening to Niall reply, her hand gripped onto the back of Niall’s chair and all in Zayn’s space, forearm trapping Zayn’s wrist where he had reached over earlier to pat Niall on the shoulder. He didn’t mind it, it was actually kind of nice, so he let Perrie harmlessly flirt on him while his fingers moved to rub Niall’s shoulder. Free massage, Niall wasn’t about to complain.

“Zayn is the mysterious one,” Niall was saying, “Harry has a camera plastered to his face,” as if cued, there was another click of Harry’s camera as he documented their trip, “and I’m driving. So you entertain us.”

“Zayn, the mysterious one?” Perrie asked, latching onto his name in interest as if they weren’t introduced hours ago. “But you’re so chatty. What do you do anyway? You can’t just be Harry’s light tech.”

“I,” Zayn opened, mouth tweaking upward at the corner while he watched uniform suburban houses pass by as Niall exited from the freeway, “am going to maintain my private and mysterious image and say I don’t have much to tell about myself.’”

Perrie raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth at his gall-- _click_ \-- but before she could say something about how cheeky he probably was, Harry interrupted, “He’s a computer programmer.”

“Software engineer.” Zayn corrected automatically before he thought to stop himself. Damn Harry. He really was smarter than he let on. _Click_.

“Oh? Are you in support? Do you design games?”

She knew what a software engineer does. Sick. “Yeah.” Zayn said, warming up to her easy. He rubbed his nose absently with his free hand, realizing he didn’t answer a specific question. “Design games,” he elaborated.

She smiled. Brilliant. “With who? EA? Blizzard? Blizzard’s main hub is in Irvine, you know.”

How can he not know? “I’m with Riot Games.”

Her eyes widened genuinely, and she shifted to turn full body to him. He barely noticed when Harry’s camera flashed in his face. “No way! You’re shitting me, right? You designed League of Legends?”

Well. Fuck. What did he say about long distance relationships again? “I _helped_ , if that’s what you mean.”

“He’s a senior software engineer who worked on the gameplay.” Harry supplied helpfully-- and where the fuck did that come from? Harry can’t remember his password from the day before and suddenly-- _click_ \-- the camera flashed again and that triggered an answer for him. Harry set him up. Zayn was totally part of some kind of impromptu shoot right now and he didn’t even realize. In the next shot Harry aimed at him Zayn gave his best scathing look.

“Really?”

Harry giggled, pulling the camera from his face to ask him an innocent “What?”

It was hard to hold a glare when Harry was so endearing. Zayn still scolded him lightly though. “I get it, every moment is an opportunity, but do you ever stop working?”

“I like candid moments!”

“What are you two on about?” Niall asked.

Perrie was looking between them. “Yeah, I want to be in on the joke.”

“Harry reckons I have chemistry with everyone and was setting up me and Perrie for another one of his ‘natural vibe’ photoshoots just now.”

“You do have chemistry with everyone.” Harry murmured through a guilt free grin as Niall laughed over his words.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “I don’t. _You_ do.”

“What, you think we don’t have chemistry?” Perrie said, raising eyebrows at him.

Now he’s done it. “No. Of course we have chemistry. You’re lovely, Perrie. The loveliest.” He pushed Harry’s camera away without looking when he heard it click again.

“I’m lovely? That’s it?”

Niall was practically cackling. The situation really wasn’t _that_ funny.

“You’re hot. Really, really hot. Come on, you know that--” and through this disastrous moment of trying to salvage the possibility of hurt feelings Perrie started to laugh too and Zayn wanted to throttle Harry for starting it all. “You’re just fucking with me-- you’re all just fucking with me.” The camera flashed in his face.

“Sorry to interrupt your awkward flirting.” Niall said, pulling up to a really nice house in a cul-de-sac. It had palm trees and everything, how appropriately Californian. “But this is ‘really, really hot’ Perrie’s stop.”

The car burst into laughter and Zayn covered his face with a hand but not enough to hide his smile.

“Thank you, love.” Perrie said gracefully and she leaned over to kiss Niall goodbye on the cheek. “Please tell me you all are still coming out tonight? You weren’t just being nice earlier?”

“Of course.” Harry assured as he gave her a one armed hug as best as he could from the passenger seat.

“You too?” Perrie said, turning to Zayn.

“I don’t know if I could recover from the embarrassment,” he teased back gently. She grinned, practically brimming with glee before she leaned over to kiss his temple. He smiled instinctively.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” She winked at him. “Bye, it was fun Harry, Niall-- Zayn.”

She shut the door and Niall waited for her to unlock her door and give one last imparting wave before he put the car back in drive.

Harry was smiling and waving back. “Probably should have mentioned you flew to California to call Liam daddy.”

Niall nearly choked.

Zayn laughed so hard his sides ached.

 

* * *

 

“Toilet, Liam’s room, my room.” Niall summarized, pointing to each as they entered the hallway of Liam and Niall’s flat. “I’ve got a toilet in my room too, you could use that if my door is open.”

Harry was a little fuzzy around the edges-- it was only six in the evening local time but it was two in the morning back home and they just landed ten hours ago this morning. Niall picked them up with Perrie and they went straight to palm springs for the desert shoot. It seemed like a good idea at the time, finishing business up right away so they had more time with Liam and Niall as Zayn was only able to get a week and a half off work, but in hindsight maybe Harry had been too ambitious. Harry and Zayn were running on something like 11 hours of interrupted airplane sleep.

Zayn was listening to Liam give a much more thorough tour of the hallway and the contents of the toilet and Zayn looked extremely intrigued by the toothpaste brand Liam was talking about even though they used the exact same brand back home. Harry rose an eyebrow at Niall and cocked his head at them. Niall caught his wordless meaning and gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes to which Harry snickered. They left them with the toiletries and walked out of the hallway, through the living room and to the kitchen.

“Kitchen is free reign,” Niall introduced, opening a cupboard to reveal dishware, “Liam and I share everything including utensils, sometimes we leave dishes in the sink but Liam doesn’t like things left overnight so only do that when he’s out of town. Otherwise we do a wash up after meals.” He opened the fridge, and it was half empty, the fullest part was a shelf on the inside of the door holding condiments like ketchup and hot sauce. “Eat anything you like.” He opened the freezer for Harry to view and it was packed to the brim of frozen vegetables and TV dinners before he closed both doors, having trouble with the freezer since it was so full. “Except the protein powder. Sorry, those are expensive and me and Liam go through them in like half a week as is. But anyway, if you eat something and we need more of it just write on the list here,” he pointed at a magnetic whiteboard that had “eggs, choco milk, bananas,” written on it in Niall’s writing, “and we’ll pick it up. My idea, good right?”

“Excellent, yeah.”

Niall led the way back out to the living room and from the hallway toilet Harry could hear Liam talking about the towel rack he installed himself.

“You’re sure you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa?” Niall asked, hands on his hips as he surveyed the room as if an alternative would suddenly come available.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Zayn’s more particular so he can have the sofa. Your floor is carpet anyway.”

Niall rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, mate. Wish our air mattress pump hadn’t gone to shite.”

“No, no--” Harry rushed to reassure, “You’re letting us stay with you. A floor is good for the back. I’m easy.”

The blonde man winked cheekily. “Are you now?”

Harry grinned, dimples denting his cheeks. “The easiest.”

Niall chuckled and slapped Harry on the back.

“Is that how you do it?” Zayn was saying with far too much interest for anything they could be talking about in a toilet. “We always have trouble cleaning our pipes back home.”

“I could show you how to clean your pipes. Erm, your sink’s. Pipes. Not _your_ pipes,” Liam was chuckling nervously and Zayn joined him, laugh all halting and high pitched as Liam went on a tad breathlessly, “I mean, not unless you want me to--”

Niall and Harry exchanged a look.

Harry pointed a thumb in Zayn and Liam’s direction, expression horrified as he mouthed, ‘Is that flirting?’

“Unfortunately. We might as well get dinner started. Looks like they’re going to be in there awhile.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner was pasta with bolognese sauce, Harry doing most of the preparation while Niall did the very important job of making sure the water boiled for the pasta. It was as uneventful a dinner as could be expected with the four of them, Liam filling them in on a recent promotion he didn’t want at the summer job with a telecommunications company that somehow extended into two years and Niall confirming that yes, he was still searching for a real job, not the current one he had at Hollister that barely paid the rent, but a real one that also magically didn’t require five plus years of experience when he was fresh out of university with an audio engineering degree. They all toasted to their quarter life crisis and then toasted again for Harry and Zayn somehow making it.

Since Harry and Niall made dinner, Zayn and Liam did the washing up while they got ready to go out with Perrie tonight.

It was only after Harry was done fixing himself up in the toilet, Zayn apologizing that he was too tired to go out before he hopped into the shower, that he realized his roommate and Liam had a different type of partying planned tonight.

“You’re staying in?” Niall repeated as Harry walked out in the living room, camera around his neck, adjusting the cuffs of his black dress shirt to his elbows. Niall looked every bit as disbelieving as his tone implied, “But you always go out on weekends. And Zayn and Harry are here.”

Liam shrugged, looking perfectly content on the over stuffed beanbag chair with a book on his lap. “It’s not like they’re leaving tomorrow--” he addressed Harry, “no offense mate,” Harry shook his head and murmured “none taken” while Liam continued, “Just feel like staying in is all. Keep our other guest company.”

“Zayn’s not coming either?” Then as if saying the words out loud sparked his reasoning, Niall’s eyes widened with comprehension and he gave him a cheeky half smile. “Oh.”

His eyes moved from Liam, to the closed door of the toilet where Zayn was still taking his shower, to Liam again. Harry had to hand it to him, Liam looked the picture of innocence.

“Oh fuck it, fine.” Niall said, throwing his hands up, “Ready, Harry?”

“Just a sec,” Harry finished putting his boots on. “Let Zayn get some sleep, yeah? He’s jet lagged.”

Liam turned a page nonchalantly as Harry opened the door. “Not sure what you’re hinting at.”

Niall followed him out, but not before yelling over his shoulder, “And don’t fuck on the sofa!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to continue this! The comments I got when I made the prologue as a standing one shot got me rolling so thank you. I already completed the fic, just waiting for my betas to do their thing. Planning on updating once a week every weekend, might be faster if there's a lot of love. =) Thank for reading! Kudos and comments are the only way fic authors get paid. <3


	3. Retrouvailles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated early because I'm out of town this weekend.
> 
> Not necessary but recommended to add some ambience for this chapter. Have some club music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DETeQ-USLS4

 

> **retrouvailles** \- _n. the happiness of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation._

 

“Niall! Harry!” Perrie was waving them over. The club was in full swing at 10 at night, people crowding the dance floor and bobbing in waves to the loud music. Harry was impressed Perrie and her friends managed to get a table to themselves with no men bothering them, as Niall warned him they would probably have to fend a couple off on the drive over. She was with two other friends, one Harry thought looked familiar and the other a person he didn’t recognize. They got started already, each of them with drinks in their hands. Perrie was looking over his shoulder.

Harry saved her further effort. “Hello,” he gave her a brief hug, “Zayn’s not coming.”

“Aww,” she looked disappointed, but not off put, “he wasn’t actually embarrassed, was he?”

Harry shook his head, an amused grin growing on his face. “No. He just got, erm, busy. Sudden invitation to badminton. Couldn’t miss it.”

“Didn’t know he was into badminton.” She turned to Niall. “No Liam either?”

Niall picked up Harry’s joke without blinking, explaining something about Liam teaching Zayn a couple things about a shuttlecock but Harry wasn’t paying too close attention, instead introducing himself to Perrie’s friends.

“Harry,” he said with a smile, leaning forward to be heard.

“Allison!” the blond girl shouted, pointing to herself before gesturing to the dark-skinned brunette next to her, the familiar looking one. “And this is Denise!”

“Hi!” Denise said loudly. “You look familiar! Did I pick you and Niall up from a bar last year?”

So that was her. Harry smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that. Let me buy you your next drink to make it up to you.”

“Sorry?” she leaned closer to him so she could hear over the loud bass and Harry moved his mouth closer to her ear,

“Let me buy you a drink?”

She looked on board with the idea.

“He’s taken!” Niall interrupted, slinging an arm around him. “Prey on another lad. Plenty of other straight ones around!”

“So clingy!” Perrie said, tugging Niall’s wrist ineffectively.

“Fuck off, Denise is hot and I need to protect Harry’s virtue.”

‘Hot.’ Harry smiled. So a bit of America was rubbing off on the Irishman after all. The girls were laughing and Niall looked sullen so he wrapped an arm around Niall’s waist. “Not to worry, Niall,” he gave Niall a meaningful look, “you’re still my favorite Irishman.” Besides, Harry was looking to make friends, nothing more.

Niall raised his eyebrows, eyes flicking to Harry’s lips momentarily. “I’m too sober for this.”

“Alcohol _is_ a solution,” Harry answered.

Allison’s eyes darted between them. “Do you bat for Niall’s team, Harry?”

“Harry is deceptively open-minded and I love him,” Niall declared, hugging Harry to him and shoving a wad of bills in his hand.

Harry looked down at the bills in bemusement. “What did I do and how can I continue doing it?”

“Go buy drinks for me and you so the girls can gossip about how good looking and British you are and I can talk them off of trying to fuck you.” He shoved Harry in what he supposed was the direction of the bar.

Harry opened his mouth in protest, shocked smile on his lips and the girls laughed. Denise winked at him coquettishly. “I can come with you, so you don’t get lost.” It was a kind offer but before Harry could open his mouth Niall interrupted.

“Did you not hear a word I just said?” Niall grabbed Denise’s wrist as if she actually was going to go with him. “Go on, Harry.”

Harry shrugged and turned to leave, smirking a little when he heard Perrie scold Niall over the music, “Do you intend on being a cockblock his entire trip?”

“Harry’s not a one night stand kind of guy!”

Harry really appreciated Niall.

 

* * *

 

He picked his way through the crowd easily, steadying someone at the hip when they nearly bumped into him and getting a pat on the bum in return. The bar was crowded but he flagged the bartender’s attention easily, realizing at the last minute he forgot to ask what Niall wanted. Or Denise for that matter. Niall wasn’t picky and Harry figured he could make a second trip for Denise. He asked for two of “something local,” one for himself and one for Niall, and made small chatter with the barkeep while she filled two glasses quickly. She told him the drinks were on the house since he had dimples and then gave him a wink when he insisted on paying for them. She topped the drinks off, which was a kind thought he thanked her for even though it would make it more difficult to walk through the club.

Harry placed the wad of bills on the table without bothering to count them and took the drinks from her carefully, both drinks swishing precariously in hand as he turned around and he was so focused on the alcohol nearly spilling out of the rim that he didn’t see--

“Oops!” Harry blurted, as half his drink, not Niall’s, thank God, sloshed out of his glass and all over the front of the person he just bumped into.

The man looked down at his-- oh, blast-- _white_ shirt, swiping at it ineffectively with the back of his fingers like it might get the stain out. He was chuckling in that way that meant, ‘just my luck,’ but took the accident in stride as he murmured back to his shirt as he looked at the new stain and wiped at it, “Hi.” The man looked up.

And Harry’s stomach _lurched_.

A feeling not so unlike vertigo tipped him a little more forward, making his lips tweak upward at the corners, mouth spreading into a grin because--

 _because_ \--

What are the chances?

A pair of brilliant blue eyes stared back at him, edges widening in recognition beneath the casual windswept ends of a fringe-- and what a detail to even notice, Harry doesn’t care about those details-- that was really besides the point, the point was-- Harry _knew_. Knew just like the first time, knew just like the man before him did.

 _Tom, Tommy, Tommo--_ Zayn’s voice in the back of his mind.

There was a moment, that Harry would tell Zayn later about, where time was suspended and the world faded just a little, the lines of the man’s face coming sharper in focus, like a camera lens does in adjustment, and Harry forgot to breathe until the man’s hand steadied him, just at his outer elbow and oh. The small touch brought Harry back and he was grinning stupidly, he had to be. What are the chances, what are the chances, _what are the chances?_ The man didn’t look like he much cared about the stain anymore.

Harry swooped in for a hug with his half full glass, instinct this time keeping Niall’s drink in his other hand low at his hip and out of hug’s way, and he could hear the man give a little shocked gasp, but he exhaled it into a soft chuckle into Harry’s shirt, hands making their way around his waist and beneath the camera, squeezing, face burying into his shoulder, as if he too couldn’t believe this was happening and--

Yes. The man did know him, he did. Harry knew he did, but having it affirmed like this-- that was truly amazing.

Harry pulled away, but kept close, arm still slung on his shoulder, all grin, while the man, blue eyes, Harry mentally called him, smiled at him, only one arm dropping from his waist, the other still pressed along the small of his back. It was like they were the oldest friends, reuniting for the first time in years, and they haven’t even exchanged proper words. Oh.

Harry asked “Want to go somewhere quieter?” the same time the man on his desktop wallpaper of over half a year said, “What’s your name?”

They mirrored each other’s grin.

Blue eyes replied first, yelling over the music. “Won’t your friends miss you?” English accent. His gaze went between the drink near his shoulder to the other at Harry’s hip.

“My friends?” Harry asked, feeling like he was glowing. _What are the chances?_ “I get lost all the time, they won’t miss me.” And it was true, he did get lost often. He offered the man Niall’s drink, and he must be insane, offering an Irishman’s drink to somebody else, but when has Harry been anything other than a man who makes decisions based on them feeling right? Harry said, “This one’s for you.”

The man took it, introducing himself loudly over the thrum of the bass, “Louis.”

Louis. Of course. Great name. The name fit Louis so much that Harry couldn’t believe he didn’t just know it right away. “Harry,” Harry replied. His right hand was still holding his own drink so he removed his arm from around Louis’s shoulder and swapped the drink to his left to offer a handshake. Louis dropped his arm from Harry’s waist to shake it.

“Harry.” Louis repeated. The handshake felt odd after their hug so Harry opted to hug him again and Louis came easily with a smile, drink coming to his lips for the first time without glancing at it. “Ugh, what is this?” Louis looked at it properly now, and the expression on his face-- Harry could appreciate it.

“Dunno, something local.” Harry said, not even the least bit sorry that Louis didn’t like it.

“What?” Louis asked over the music. Louis was bringing the glass up for another drink anyway. Not one to waste alcohol. Niall would like him.

“Want to go upstairs?” Harry said instead. He made a motion with his head to indicate the lift.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Louis tugged him forward by the waist, must have realized what he was doing at the last minute because he dropped his arm, going ahead, already knowing Harry was following him past the bar and through the crowd.

 

* * *

 

The ride to the rooftop balcony was brief, most of their exchange done through curious, amused glances, and Louis led the way out when the doors slid open. Harry nearly forgot to step out himself because the Los Angeles night was breathtaking, the rooftop’s balustrade providing a lovely rule of thirds reference, Louis’s silhouette framed naturally by the lift doors closing and-- oh shit!

Harry jumped out of the lift, nearly clipping the back of his foot and Louis was there, free hand and drink-holding hand going to either side of him, steadying him at the elbows and looking concerned. “All right?”

Harry chuckled sheepishly. “Distracted,” he murmured.

“I see that.” Louis removed his glass from Harry’s arm, but kept his free hand lightly on his other, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced Harry could manage to make the ten steps to the roof’s railing by himself.

They balanced their drinks on the balustrade, Louis dropping his hand from Harry’s elbow, as they stood side by side with scarcely half a meter between them and gazed at the view in comfortable silence.

The city lights were impressive up here, despite LA’s smog defining the skyline. Even at this time, on a weekday night, cars still milled in the streets, the city alive and restless, breeze cool in the dry warmth typical to southern California.

“Mind?”

Harry looked across his shoulder to see Louis with a cigarette between his lips, lighter lifted to the end of it, eyebrow raised in question.

“Not at all.”

He watched as Louis’s thumb flicked the flint, other hand cupping the flame against the wind, momentarily lighting the hollow of Louis’s cheeks, the edges of his lashes. _I want to take a picture of that._

Louis clasped the lighter shut, shoving it somewhere in a pocket out of Harry’s line of vision. He took a long drag, the end flaring up, a sharp contrast to the city lights beyond, and he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing the smoke out slow.

 _That too._ His finger absently touched his camera. “Where are you from, Harry?” Louis asked.

“Holmes Chapel. Small village in Cheshire about thirty miles south of Manchester.” he added, when he saw Louis’s confused expression. He didn’t know why he was so specific either. “I live in London now, though. Just visiting friends for a couple days. How about you?”

“Moved out of Doncaster as soon as I could. 18 might’ve been too soon to move to California, though.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, trying to figure out how to navigate this conversation, where it was meant to be going. “What’s in California?”

“Glitz and glamour.” Louis looked at him sideways, eyes twinkling in humor as he took another drag of his smoke. “Part-time server, full-time struggling actor.” He beamed, nice and easy. Harry liked it. He liked it a lot. “You?”

“Full-time student. Full-time photographer” he replied in kind, indicating his camera without looking at it by touching it lightly with a fingertip.

“Look at you,” Louis grin stretched to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “What is that? 48 hours work in a day? I’m impressed.”

Harry smiled back. Somehow during conversation the gap between them had closed and their shoulders were bumping, warm and comfortable. “24 hours. Just like Beyonce.”

Louis barked a laugh and Harry’s smile widened into a grin. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Do you sing too? Like Beyonce?”

Harry shrugged, grin softening as he absently fingered the edge of his camera. _I want to take a picture of you._ “Sometimes.”

Louis rose an eyebrow, as if he were filing that detail in the back of his mind to ask about later. “Uni then? What do you study?”

“English and Law. Did you move to the States by yourself?”

“Whoa, love, don’t change the subject. English _and_ Law.” Louis seemed genuinely impressed and Harry felt a flush bloom at the back of his neck. “Couldn’t decide on one difficult subject so you had to go on and choose two?”

“Something like that.”

Harry watched the tip of Louis’s smoke flare to life with his breath. “That’s pretty incredible.”

“Not really. Not as incredible as moving to the States at 18.”

Louis didn’t say anything, just watched him quietly, the wind ruffling their hair a little and blowing smoke into Harry’s face.

“Can I?” He lifted his camera shyly.

“Can you?” Louis challenged.

Harry’s smile broke into another grin, rephrasing, “Mind if I take pictures?”

Louis mirrored his smile as if Harry said something particularly amusing. He put his cigarette up to his lip again, looking over the bright lights below them, murmuring, “No, I don’t mind.” He took a long drag.

Harry took rapid shots in succession, without flash.

Louis laughed, smoke coming from his mouth in bursts. Harry took pictures of those too. Beautiful.

“The flash isn’t on?” Louis said, poking Harry’s wrist gently.

Harry smiled behind the camera. “That’s fine.” He took a couple more, camera clicking frantically. The lights haloing through his hair were great.

“Enough to make a flipbook.” Louis said with amusement.

“That’s the plan.” Harry’s phone was buzzing again. He might as well chuck it off the side of the building for all the attention he paid it.

Louis took his drink in his free hand, downing the rest of it in one go. Harry took pictures of his profile, his closed eyes, the line of his throat, its bob as he swallowed. Harry unconsciously swallowed as well.

Louis put the drink down. “Won’t those come out poorly? Without flash?”

Harry pulled the camera from his face, and shook his head, shifting to show him the screen. “Depends on how you set it up,” he said softly, adjusting the lens manually as he spoke, “Los Angeles has loads of lights…” He realized that wasn’t really relevant to what he was showing him so changed his sentence halfway. “...if you set the mode to aperture priority, and use an aperture of f/16. You can go higher but,” he shrugged, “f/16 is usually fine. Have a long exposure, like around 1 to 30 seconds, depends on the effect you want, and if you want a warmer color just change the white balance to daylight.” He took a test shot randomly for him as example.

Louis sucked in a breath. “Bloody hell.”

The shot wasn’t great, Harry wasn’t really pointing it at anything, but the colors looked nice and Los Angeles was photogenic tonight. Still, Harry felt himself flush at Louis’s pleased surprise.

“Narrower apertures can get you even more dramatic shots if you let your shutter stay open longer and let it get more light. That’s how all those night shots of stars are taken.”

Louis looked at Harry and Harry realized suddenly that they were mere centimeters apart. Louis didn’t seem to mind though. He was chuckling, the crinkles of his eyes making an appearance again. “I really don’t understand a thing you’re saying.”

“Sorry.” Harry muttered, realizing he probably rambled again.

Louis shook his head, tapping Harry’s forearm reassuringly. “No, no, it all sounds very impressive.”

Harry smiled, unable to help himself. “Thank you.”

Louis grinned back.

Harry moved the camera back to his face. He took a picture of Louis’ fingers and the cigarette between them.

His phone had been buzzing for an insistent ten seconds.

Harry put his camera down. “So you moved by yourself?”

Louis hummed in affirmation. His eyes were on Harry’s pocket. “Are you going to answer those?”

He supposed he should. He pulled out his phone and saw he had 7 missed calls and 20 something texts from Perrie and Niall. Harry didn’t think he was gone that long. Then again, Niall was serious about his alcohol. “Just a sec.” He was ringing Niall, phone to his ear as he walked away for privacy when he remembered and spun around, walking backward as he faced Louis, “Don’t leave?”

Louis had turned to watch him go, leaning back on the balustrade with a practiced ease, elbows propping him up, cigarette a dull glow in his shadow. Harry itched to take a picture. Louis smiled. “Course not. Will be right here when you get back, Harry.”

Niall picked up on the third ring. “‘Arry!” He could hear Perrie yelling in the background, something about: ‘oh so he’s not dead?’ Before Harry could respond Niall continued on, cheerily. “Where’d you go off to?”

“Erm,” Harry looked around as if he could find an excuse somewhere in his surroundings. He could see Louis watching him quietly, smoke falling around him like fog. “On the rooftop.”

“‘On the rooftop?’” Niall repeated half amused, half incredulous. He heard him say as much to Perrie and add ‘could you believe this boy?’ even over the music he could hear her laughing. “Only you, Harry. I ask you to get drinks and half an hour later you’re gone and on the rooftop.”

Had it really been half an hour?

Niall was still talking. “Do you need me to come get you?” The music dulled fractionally as Niall moved to somewhere quieter, probably right outside the club.

“I’m all right. I’ll be down soon.”

“Good. With a story and my drink.”

Harry’s eyes flicked to what was once Niall’s drink, now just an empty glass. “Of course.”

“If you’re not back in ten I’m coming up myself.”

Harry chuckled. “See you soon.”

“Bye.”

He hung up, not bothering to check the texts as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He was already speaking as he made his way back. “Do you dance, Louis?”

Louis smirked. “Are you asking me to?”

Harry gave him an innocent expression, hands clasped behind his back as he stopped before him and shrugged. “Just a question.”

Louis gave him a long, measured look. “I’m under the impression that not many people tell you no, Harry.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that so he didn’t as he waited for a proper response.

He wasn’t sure what he did but whatever it was must have worked because Louis was laughing again, head thrown back like he couldn’t believe what he was about to do. He looked back at Harry, eyes dancing with mirth. “Effortlessly charming.” He took a final drag of his cigarette, cheeks hollowing, gaze holding Harry’s and Harry regretted not having his camera ready. Louis put his smoke out in the ashtray atop the nearby bin. “Right then. Let’s go meet your friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving kudos is like leaving fanfic authors a tip! Leaving a comment is appreciated! <3 These are the only way fanfic writers get paaaaid.


	4. Raconteur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far. Again, not necessary, but recommended for the ambiance of the fic. Have some club music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2V9v7tvyKg

> **raconteur** - _(n.) a person who tells anecdotes in a skillful and amusing way._

 

“The prodigal son returns!” Niall announced when he caught sight of Harry. The girls started clapping, Denise and Perrie doing so with a free hand against wrist and forearm as they held their drinks.

“And with gifts!” Denise added, seeing him with two bottles in each hand held around the neck.

All but Allison had a drink in their hand so she reached over to help take the bottles from Harry and set them on the small table.

“Thank you. Got side-tracked.” Harry shifted to make room for Louis.

“Sorry for taking your drink, mate. Got you another.” Louis offered him the full bottle he was holding.

Niall already had a drink in one hand but he took the bottle from Louis (“Thanks, mate.”) without even blinking, mouth already going around its rim as he addressed Harry. “Who’s this?”

“Louis.” Louis introduced, holding a hand out for Niall to shake.

“Everyone this is Louis.” Harry said a beat late as if Louis hadn’t just said so. Niall’s hands were full so he bumped Louis’s hand with his knuckles as greeting instead.

Denise and Perrie were looking at him in interest. “Hello, Louis.” Allison said with a too-wide smile.

“Louis,” Harry continued, “This is Niall, Allison, Perrie, and Denise.” He hadn’t realized he put a hand on the small of Louis’s back until he noticed Niall looking pointedly at it as he took a sip.

“Is he the story behind the rooftop then?” Perrie asked, drawing Harry’s attention.

Louis rose his eyebrows, shifting minutely to lean on one hip as he looked up at him. “Oh, I’m a story, am I? Let’s hear it.”

“No, no,” Harry fumbled in a rush, not knowing why he was feeling bashful. “No story, there’s none.”

“Nearly an hour no story, I call bullshit.” Niall said after a swallow. He was looking at Louis as if he was a particularly intriguing subject, eyes flicking back to where Harry’s hand was still on Louis’s back. Right. Harry dropped his hand.

“The _story_ ,” Louis interjected helpfully, eyes twinkling in mischief as he glanced over the group and Harry had the impression Louis was making it a point not to look at him. “is that Harry and I here met at Venice Beach some time ago--”

Louis _remembered_.

Louis went on as if he didn’t feel Harry sway beneath the fingers on his back, steadying Harry as he spoke and when did Louis put his hand on his back? “Felt like we knew each other already, we did. But we’re idiots and didn’t exchange information. Imagine my surprise when this random bloke spills a drink on me,” he gestured at the drying stain still evident on his shirt, “and it turns out to be _Harold_.”

Niall laughed, attention focused on Louis.

“Your name is actually Harold, Harry?” Perrie asked.

“‘S not--” Harry mumbled but Louis was talking again and all eyes were for him and his story.

“I mean, what are the chances, right?” Louis asked, and Harry smiled. _What are the chances?_

Louis looked back at his captivated audience. “So he gives me Niall’s drink, right? To apologize--”

“Tosser.” Niall interrupted, but it was all humor.

“--I know,” Louis drummed his fingers against Harry’s spine. “From an _Irishman_ of all people.”

Niall raised the bottle Louis gave him in agreement.

“You’re really not helping my cause here, man.” Harry murmured, but there was a lull in the music and they all heard. The group laughed.

“And so Harold--”

“Harry.” Harry corrected. Louis ignored him.

“--being the gentleman he is, wants to have a chat to catch up. But the music’s too loud, naturally, so he suggests the lift. I ask him if his friends will miss him--”

Harry knew where this was going and clasped a hand over Louis’s mouth before he could help it. “Don’t--”

Louis eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement and he tugged Harry’s hand from his mouth but didn’t let it go, holding it to his chest as if Harry might try to cover his mouth again. “--and he says he gets lost all the time so his friends won’t miss him--”

Perrie starts laughing so hard she has to put her drink down and Allison pats her back helpfully.

“See if I ever worry about you again.” Niall said through a half smile.

Harry wished a hole would appear beneath him and swallow him whole. Or cover his face at least to hide from embarrassment but seeing as one hand was holding a drink and the other was trapped beneath Louis’s he had to settle for looking down as his face burned in humiliation. He could feel Louis’s fingers on his back pat him soothingly.

“So I’m drinking an Irishman’s drink not knowing the sin I’m committing--”

Niall was nodding in sympathy, eyes dancing. Well at least his friends like him, even though it was at Harry’s expense.

“--and we go up the lift and we’re catching up, Harry’s phone buzzing like a highest setting vibrator with new batteries--” The girls nearly choke on their drinks as they laugh. Denise also put her drink down next to Perrie’s claiming it was safer since Louis clearly intended to kill them.

“--But he ignores it, see,” Louis continued, “Harold ignores it because he’s so wonderfully attentive--”

Harry flushed again, but for an entirely new reason.

“--has a way of making you feel like at the moment, you’re the most interesting person in the world. The only one that matters.”

“He is like that, our Harry.” Perrie said in admiration.

“Thank you.” Harry murmured shyly, only because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Louis saved him by continuing, giving his hand he held against his chest a single squeeze before finally letting it go. Louis’s other hand with still at his back though. “I’m an actor so I’m surrounded by creative types on the daily, right? Musicians, artists, painters, the like. I know what dedication looks like. Any of you play instruments?”

Perrie and Allison shook their heads.

“Really?” Louis asked baffled at the group. “Not even guitar?”

“I played the flute in school.” Niall responded. That was news to Harry.

“Denise can play the guitar.” Allison added. The way she said that with a twist to her lips let them all know she was throwing her friend under the bus.

“I do not. I know, like, two chords.”

“Hey,” Louis defended, reaching to pat Denise gently on the forearm. “Don’t put yourself down. Two chords is more than no chords. You play guitar. That’s wicked.”

Harry felt a small warmth bloom in his stomach at his encouragement.

“And the rest of you,” meaning Harry, Allison, and Perrie, “you’ve seen people play instruments, correct?”

They hummed various sounds of assent.

Louis seemed satisfied. “So you all know that look musicians get when they play music or sing? Look all far away? Like they’re in another world?”

More hums of agreement.

“So Harold here--” Harry didn’t bother to correct him this time “--is amazing. I can safely say with one hundred percent certainty that I have never see a photographer with the same look a musician gets with their music-- until Harry.” Louis grinned at him, “His eyes get all unfocused, camera an extension of him, and it’s quite lovely. A bit disarming. But that’s passion--”

Harry’s gaze must have been lingering longer than polite because Niall elbowed him.

Louis was addressing the group once more. “--and so him getting ‘lost’ is more my fault, everyone, sorry, because I wanted him to show me what he’s been up to, what he’s been working on. I was very insistent.” He patted Harry’s back twice and dropped his arm. “All of these drinks were on me.”

The girls and Niall chorused their “awww” of appreciation and Louis smiled at them.

“That’s a good friend there, Harry, taking your fall.” Niall said in approval over the rim of his glass. He raised his eyebrows at him as he took a swig of his drink, the first since Louis began his story, and that said something about how extraordinary Louis was.

Before Harry could thank him Louis was looking at the girls. “All right, so who wants to dance?”

* * *

Allison was pretty. With a small face and large features, big brown doe eyes that made her look like some kind of late summer, early autumn pixie framed by long blonde hair. Who did Zayn call pixie again? Oh yeah. Niall. Niall’s hair was brighter than Allison’s, but Allison’s looked softer, with conditioners and moisturizers or whatever else girls put in their hair to make it shiny and nice smelling. When she smiled it matched her laugh, beautiful and bubbly, commanding attention. Her dancing left something to be desired, but Harry supposed that was because the universe wanted some semblance of balance. Allison couldn’t have _everything_ going for her.

Niall was the designated table-watcher for the next three or so songs and Harry volunteered to stay with so he wouldn’t be alone while everyone else went to the dance floor. Well it was everyone else before Denise and Perrie came back to drop off their drinks and find a restroom. When Harry turned to look at Niall the world spun a little with the quick movement. Harry forgot what or who they were talking about, and if he was going to be 100% honest he sort of tuned out five minutes ago when he saw Louis had reappeared with another drink for Allison, Allison leaning into him and laughing, shouting something into his ear while she swayed a little offbeat to the music. Louis kept a hand on her arm to steady her. Niall was going on, “I don’t think I look like a guitar player to be honest--”

“Do you think Allison is pretty?” Harry interrupted.

Niall looked confused. “Uh, yeah,” He gave Harry a weird expression, “She’s not, like, Denise bombshell, but cute in that girl-next-door kind of way, I guess. What’s this got to do with David again?”

Harry nodded once, eyes still on the back of Allison’s head and downing the rest of his 5th-- 6th?-- beer in one go. “I need to take a wee.”

“Yeah, sure.” Niall said, unperturbed. “Send Perrie and Denise back, will you?” He was already pulling out his phone.

“Sure.” Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling a little hot suddenly in his dress shirt and he was about halfway down his chest and working on undoing the third button before Niall moved to stop him (“As a gay man who hasn’t had a proper lay in weeks I’d love for you to continue, but as a responsible friend I’ve got to stop you.”), and Harry must be drunker than he thought.

He made his way through the crowd and towards where he knew the restrooms would be-- and if he happened to find a detour along the way that ended with Louis and Allison, then oops.

He sent a fast text to Perrie: _Niall’s looking for you and Denise. x_

She replied back a second later with a heart emoji and a _we’ll be back sooooon xx_

Louis was easy to find. Truthfully, Harry felt like he could find him in any room no matter the size. Louis must have felt his gaze because he looked up past Allison’s shoulder and directly at him, smile widening as he waved him to come over as if Harry wasn’t already.

The DJ was blasting the wind up for the song and everyone on the floor was holding their hands up, some raised on the tippy toes as they waited for the bass to drop and when it did was about the same time he made it to them, Allison jumping wildly and grinning at Harry with wild abandon.

“Dance with us!” she yelled, grabbing his hands and pulling him close.

Harry laughed as he stumbled forward and in between her and Louis, the camera around his neck swinging, Louis breaking his fall with an embrace. And, this was nice. Louis’s shoulder was really nice. “I wanna dance with _you_.” Harry heard himself saying, and it was supposed to be into Louis’s ear but the music was loud and he just about shouted it. Allison heard of course, brow wrinkling a little as Louis laughed. Harry back-pedaled, stepping back a little from Louis to smooth out the situation. “Erm, can I dance with Lou?” he asked her. It seemed polite in his head but that must have been the wrong thing to say because she frowned slightly, the adrenaline seeming to drain away with her smile as she nodded, looking lost.

“Sure!” Her eyes darted between them for a second. “I need a refill anyway!” Her drink was not close to finished but she was already leaving.

Did he just steal her dance partner? He didn’t mean to. Not really. “I was a proper dickhead somehow, wasn’t I?” he asked Louis.

“I don’t think so,” Louis was shaking his head and looking happy to see him. “You are, however, proper sloshed!”

“I should apologize.” Harry moved into him unconsciously, swaying as his forehead dropped to the shorter man’s shoulder. He smelled nice too. Harry should tell him. “You smell nice.”

Louis barked out laughter. “You are so pissed.” They were close enough that even though Louis said it at a normal volume Harry still heard it. Louis was rubbing his fingers soothingly on his back. The entire world bobbed around them but here they were slow dancing.

“I should go find her.” He should. Louis felt nice though. Steady. “She fancied you, you know.”

Louis gave a neutral hum and it was hard to tell what that meant. Maybe Louis fancied her? Great. Harry was an even bigger prick. He turned his head into Louis’s neck, head feeling heavy.

“Do you fancy her?” he heard himself ask.

“No, I don’t.”

And just because he had to know he asked, “D’you have a girlfriend?”

Louis laughed again. “No, Harry, I broke up with her.”

“What? When?”

“I dunno, four, three months ago? Does it matter?” Harry could hear Louis’s smile in his words as if Harry said something funny.

Harry nodded into his neck, satisfied. “Kind of.” he wouldn’t want Louis getting in trouble, “Just was thinking. I don’t think she’d like it if you came to the club by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself.” Louis said, and there was amusement there. “I‘ve got you, haven’t I?”

“Yeah.”

The music began transitioning and Louis tapped at his back a little frantically. “I fucking love this song.” Louis began bobbing his body in tune with the crowd, and with him, Harry. Harry found himself laughing into Louis’s neck for no reason. “Find Allison later,” Louis declared, “we’re not leaving the floor until this song fucking drops! Come on, Harold, you said you wanted to dance. Show me how you fucking dance then!”

Louis was pretty fucking brilliant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I timed this right, "Perfect" should have come out by now or soon. How do you guys like it? Personally I am dying (haven't listened at the moment of typing this but I am imagining that would be my reaction *thumbs up* [EDIT: YES. I AM DYING. LARRY ALL UP IN HERE. LOUIS WROTE THAT CHORUS HARRY IS SINGING. I CAN FEEL IT]).
> 
> Anyway, yeah. Niall plays the flute. I'm tired of him being attached at the hip to a guitar so had to throw people off. Also news: I'm going to update this much faster than I thought. With NaNoWriMo just around the corner I wanted to have this completely uploaded by the end of the month so I don't have to worry about formatting/working on it in November. With that said I'll be uploading Chapter 5 tomorrow and Chapter 6 the day after that. Chapters 7-9 will be posted next weekend and then the final two chapters on Halloween. =) Thanks for reading!


	5. Temul

> **temul** - _(v.) signifies a sense of creativity and passion -- to rush headlong, to be inspired, to have creative thoughts, and even to take a flight of fancy._

They didn’t go back to the table after the song dropped. They didn’t even go back after it transitioned to the next, and the next one after that, and the one after that. In fact they stayed there long enough Niall had come to fetch them to table-watch and instead Louis convinced him to join in their ridiculous fist pumping. Harry would have been content to stay on the floor all night, bouncing to the beat and watching Louis praise the DJ for his spectacular music taste.

Louis was giving Harry a one-armed hug from behind, forearm slung over his shoulder and pressed across his chest, demanding the DJ drop the bass already and Harry was half screaming, half laughing the lyrics to the song at the top of lungs, Niall joining him and doing honest-to-God riverdancing right after. Fuck yes, this was the best fucking night. And fuck, did he have to take a wee. For real this time.

“I have to take a wee!” Harry announced in the middle of his song lyrics.

“Go!” Louis yelled into his ear.

“Okay!” Harry yelled back.

Niall laughed at him, exclaiming something about a hammer.

Louis’s arm slid off his shoulder and Harry grabbed for Louis’s hand unconsciously, satisfied when he felt Louis’s fingers entwine with his despite the constant jostling of bodies around him. Harry leaned his ear into Niall’s mouth. “What?” Harry asked.

“I said you’re hammered!” Niall clapped him on his other shoulder, “I’ll go with you!”

This was an exciting development. “Where are we going?” He tugged at Louis’s hand in indication. “Can Louis come?”

Niall grinned in amusement. “Louis can go wherever he wants!” He looked at Louis. “Louis fancy a trip to the toilet? We can make a field trip out of it!”

Louis shook his head. “No, I think I’ll meet you both at the bar if that’s cool?”

“Getting more drinks?” Harry asked, enthused.

Louis laughed. “No, love, I reckon you’ve had enough for tonight. I’ll have water waiting for you.” He gave Harry’s hand a squeeze and then let go.

“Okay!” Harry said happily.

“See you soon!” he said, crinkles reappearing at the corners of his eyes. “Niall!”

“Louis!” Niall responded in kind. Louis disappeared into the crowd, bobbing and dancing his way to the bar.

Harry was still watching him leave as Niall towed him by the wrist in the direction of the restroom.

“I think I like Louis!” Harry confessed, voice too loud for the restroom as Harry took the longest piss of his life.

Niall was leaning against the wall near him, giving him a cryptic half smile. “I know.”

“Do you like him?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, he’s cool.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah he is, isn’t he?” he finally finished his business and zipped up, Niall watching him as he went to wash his hands.

“Out of curiosity,” Niall opened nonchalantly, “Did you say something to Allison earlier?”

“Mm… don’t think so.” Harry ensured he got soap in between all his fingers, under his nails. Clean, clean, cleeeaaan. “Why?” He turned on the tap and ran his hands under it.

Niall shrugged a little. “She came back to the table pretty quiet ‘s’all. She might’ve mentioned you had something to do with it.”

Suddenly Harry remembered. “Oh _shit_. Yeah. I-- I might’ve said something. I kind of got in between her and Louis on the dance floor.”

Realization dawned on Niall’s face. “Ah. That explains it then.” He seemed entertained by this new information.

“Shit, Niall, how mad is she? I should apologize.” He was leaving the sink, hands still partially soapy, forgetting to turn off the tap as he went to get paper towels.

Niall turned it off for him. “No worries. She’s probably over it by now.”

“I was still a dick.”

“Harry, I don’t think you could be a dick if you tried, honestly.” Niall slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder as he led him back out into the club. The music that was muffled in the restroom hit them like a wall as soon as they stepped out of it.

They found Louis at the bar easily-- making fast friends with the bartender by the looks of it. Harry caught Louis’s eye and he waved and made his way over.

“Oh you’re together!” The bartender said in pleasant surprise as soon as he was within earshot and Harry recognized her as the same barkeep that helped him earlier.

“Hello!” Harry said amiably. He offered her a hand across the bar and she took it. “I’m Harry. I like your hair.” It was dyed white and the lights of the club flickered off it in fascinating ways.

“Aren’t you the sweetest, Harry!” she replied, shaking his hand once before moving to grab some glasses off the table. “I’m Lou.”

Harry gaped and Niall seemed entertained at the coincidence too as he pointed between Louis and her. “Just like Louis!”

She grinned and it was nice. “Yes, we were just discussing that.”

“Delightful discussion, it was.” Louis assured grimly and Harry laughed. He felt Louis’s fingers trailing down his wrist so he turned his hand minutely to entwine them. Niall was looking at their hands, and then at Harry. Oh! Right!

“This is Niall.” Harry introduced to Lou, realizing he was being rude. “He’s Irish.”

Niall smiled tightly, reaching over the counter as well for a shake. “I also play the flute.”

Lou laughed as she shook it. “I’d love to stay and chat but the other side of the bar is looking to get wasted.”

“No worries! Thanks for keeping me company.” Louis said with a smile.

“My pleasure. Safe night, guys.”

Louis turned to Harry, looking at him pointedly as he pushed a glass of water that had to be there the entire conversation but Harry only noticed now. “I got you a gift.”

Harry beamed. “It’s not even my birthday.” He took the glass and drank half of it in three gulps.

“Just got a text from Perrie.” Niall was holding up his phone. “Me ‘n the girls are going to hop clubs. Do you two wanna come?”

Even though Niall was directing the query to Harry, Harry looked at Louis over the rim of his water glass in question.

Louis got Harry’s hint immediately. “Ah, thanks but I’m going to have to pass. I’m kind of hungry.” He looked at Harry. “Are you kind of hungry?”

No. Harry put down the glass, half full. “I could grab a bite.”

Niall must have been texting their responses in his phone to Perrie because he tapped on it for a couple seconds before pocketing his phone altogether. “Right then. I’ll let the girls know.” He reached back into another pocket and pulled out his keys. “Take my keys. I don’t know when you’ll be home.”

“But your car?” Harry said, taking the keys from Niall.

“I’ll catch a cab home tonight. A lot more drinks in my immediate future. Payno can drop me off to my car in the morning.” he reassured.

“But… how will you get into your house?” Harry looked genuinely concerned.

Niall laughed. “You are so cute, Harry!” He pinched Harry’s nipple affectionately, starling a giggle out of him as he defended himself belatedly with a weak slap of his hand. “Isn’t he cute, Louis?”

“He is very cute.” Louis agreed.

Harry was rubbing the sharp sensation out of his chest where Niall had tweaked it but he looked pleased about being called cute. “Why am I cute?”

“Because you worry far too much for a drunk person.” Louis answered fondly.

Niall pointed at him in cheeky agreement and while Harry mulled over what that meant Niall turned to Louis, “If he’s not back by 10 in the morning I’m hunting you down.”

Louis smiled at him. “I’ll even hold the doors open for him, dad.”

Niall laughed. Harry watched as he and Louis exchanged numbers and then they said their final goodbyes, his blond head blending with the crowd a minute later.

“Wait so… how is he getting back into his flat?”

Louis shrugged not the least bit as bothered as Harry. “Probably left a window cracked or something. Niall seems like a clever guy who wouldn’t offer his keys to you without an alternative so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Harry bit his lip, still uncertain about the keys in his hand and what it meant for their owner to be without them.

“Are you going to finish that?” Louis prodded gently. Oh right, still half a glass to go! He finished the rest of the water in one go and when Harry looked back at Louis he was smiling at him softly as if Harry did something particularly interesting. He kind of wanted to know what he did so he could repeat it if it kept Louis looking at him like that. Louis interrupted his thoughts. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Anything you’re craving is fine.”

“What time is it?” Even as he asked Louis was checking his phone for the time. “Nearly 1 in the morning. Perfect time for breakfast, don’t you think?”

Harry laughed incredulously. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah, sorted. Come on.” he pulled Harry forward and away from the bar by the hand. Harry didn’t know where they were going, but he was sure he would follow Louis anywhere.

* * *

They reached Louis’s car, a sensible, used Honda Accord that “will eventually become a Porsche Boxter, mark my words.”

“Until then you’ve,” Harry’s grin was already widening before he said his punchline, “reached an _Accord_ with this vehicle.”

Louis blinked at him. “Did you just-- was that just a…” he let the word ‘pun’ lay unsaid, instead letting the silence thicken enough to make Harry laugh unashamed. Louis raised  an eyebrow and gave him a warning point of his index but Harry didn’t miss the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. “You’re drunk, so I’ll forgive you.”

Harry felt extremely proud of himself as Louis unlocked the doors manually. “I’d kick you out of my car if you weren’t already outside it.” Louis continued.

They got into his car and Louis turned the ignition, giving the engine time to warm up as he thumbed in Niall’s address Niall texted to him minutes ago into whatever mapping application Louis used on his phone. Harry had been cold on the way to the car and Louis offered to take him back to Niall’s to grab a jacket, insisting he enjoyed driving so Harry would be doing him the favor by saying yes. Harry sort of thought Louis was the nicest person in the world.

“What kind of music do you listen to, Harry? You can push the chair back, by the way, you don’t have to sit all crammed--”

Harry gave him a look that was as thankful as it was embarrassed as he pulled the lever beneath the seat and scooted it all the way back. “Erm, anything really. I like anything as long as it like, erm, speaks--” he reclined the seat slightly too, “--to me. Gives good vibes. Best kind of music.”

Louis seemed entertained by the answer. “Like what? Give me specifics. Artists?”

Harry shrugged, belting himself in. “Dunno. Pink Floyd? Johnny Cash? Chris DeBurgh?”

“Mm…” Louis hummed, scrolling on his phone. “How about John Mayer?”

“Oh, I love John Mayer--”

“Good.” Louis interrupted cheekily, putting his phone into a holder on the dash and pressing play. “Because that’s who we’re going to be listening to.”

John Mayer’s “[Gravity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VBex8zbDRs%20)” started to play, muting for a moment as his GPS instructed Louis to make a left on 6th street. Louis was tapping his phone again, presumably to turn off the app from interrupting the music and the song resumed playing as Louis eased his way out of the lot. Harry leaned back in the seat, smiling and closing his eyes, and maybe it was the alcohol but Harry hadn’t felt this content, this comfortable, in a long, long time.

“Johnny Cash,” Louis murmured, and with his eyes closed Harry could hear the subdued chuckle in his words so much more clearly. “How old are you, Harry?”

Harry opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at him. “21.”

“Ah.” He turned left.

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that response. “...I’ll be turning 22 soon. Come February.” He didn’t know why he shifted to sit a little straighter.

Louis laughed. “21 is just fine, Harry.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes stayed even after his laughter faded into a reassuring smile. “I’ll be 24. Come December,” he teased gently.

“Oh.” Harry smiled for apparently no reason. Nothing was really funny, nothing was really happening. “You’re 23 then. Just two years older than me.”

“Oh you _do_ go to lectures, don’t you, Harry? Getting your tuition’s worth in university!”

Harry laughed, playfully puffing his chest out and looking proud.

“How old did you reckon I was?” Louis asked.

Harry shrugged, relaxing back into his seat, eyes incredibly fascinated by Louis-- if not his face, then his fingers tapping Niall’s address into the GPS, or the way he flicked his hair out of his face. Louis was just so… _interesting_. “26?” He ventured shyly, and after seeing Louis’s mock expression of disgust, “27?”

“God. _Really_?”

Harry laughed again. He was doing that a lot since he met Louis. How drunk was he?

Louis was still talking. “Do I look that old? Jesus.” They stopped at a light and he made a show of pulling down his visor to check the mirror.

Harry rested a hand on Louis’s forearm, still ridiculously giggly. “It’s not what you _look_ like, it’s how you hold yourself.”

Louis turned his attention back to Harry for explanation, the arm which Harry placed his hand on had gone noticeably still beneath his fingers. Harry went on, “Like, you’re so at ease, so... sure.”

“I believe that’s called confidence.”

Harry was nodding, a short chuckle escaping his lips. “Yes, confidence. You have this, erm, otherworldly-ness about you--”

“Otherworldly-ness?”

“Yeah--”

“They do feed you loads of horse shit at uni, don’t they?”

Harry snorted at that, he probably wouldn’t be winning any trophies for most attractive by the end of the night but _fuck_ Louis was hilarious.

“I mean, _otherworldly-ness_? Please. Big word there. That’s--” and as Louis seemed to be focused on keeping his arm as motionless as possible as if attempting to maintain impression of actual armrest for the hand Harry was yet to remove from his arm, Louis’s other hand came up to count on the fingers Harry pressed into his skin. “Oth-” he put his pointer finger on Harry’s thumb, “ther-” moved it to his index, “whirled-” pressed it against his middle, “lee-” and wrapped his fingers around Harry’s ring finger, wiggling it a little for good measure and if Harry’s smile was growing wider with each tap of his fingers he wasn’t going to try to hide it. Louis was looking past him and somewhere over his shoulder as if in thought, but if his own smile was anything to go by, he must know how lovestruck Harry looked right now, Harry was never really good at hiding--

Oh.

God.

He might be falling in love with Louis.

Louis was continuing on as if Harry didn’t just realize the most pivotal moment of his life, “--add your very descriptive ‘-ness’ and you’ve got five syllables. Five.” His eyes drew back to Harry’s, “Five wasted syllables used when you could have just called me an angel. An-gel. Two.” He smiled again and-- wow. Okay. The light turned green and Louis had to make another left hand turn, steering the wheel, and his arm, away from Harry’s fingers. Harry let his hand fall back to his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll consider writing a proper car fic because I adore Louis's and Harry's car collections. Thanks for reading! Kudos are tips, if you left a tip already, comments are for returning customers. <3 I'm uploading one of my favorite chapter tomorrow. I'd love it if you stuck around.


	6. Yuanfen

> **yuanfen** \- _(n.) a relationship by fate or destiny; the “binding force” that links two people together in any relationship._

_Going to be back in 5 to get a jacket._ Harry’s text read.

It was sent about four minutes ago, according to the messenger timestamp, but Zayn didn’t want to reach for his phone when the first volume of The Sandman was getting so good and the last couple texts he got were from Niall and self-resolving. Judging from the content ( _Harry isn’t answering his phone . // We sent him for drinks and he disappeared . // Can yuo ring Harry ? he’s not responding to me . // Nevermind ! found Harry on the roof_ ), it sounded like a typical night out with Harry. Zayn put away his phone, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses and settling back into the sofa easily.

There were few places he could think of preferring to be tonight, with his legs stretched out comfortably and a throw over his thighs, the single lamp light in the living room illuminating the amazing graphic novel in his lap. He didn’t know why it took him so long to pick up The Sandman to begin with. He should stop by the bookstore tomorrow and pick up the next volume--

He heard heavy footsteps taking the stairs two at a time, a series of tapping on the window outside as someone walked passed it, followed by a cough and far too much jangling of keys as Harry pretended to struggle with the lock. Zayn felt a smile spread on his lips at Harry’s consideration, there were many a night when Zayn did the same thing at their flat after Harry sent off a text about having ‘polite company’ over. Except Zayn would send more than a five minute warning text and make a lot more racket than the subdued noise Harry was making-- usually it involved knocking over something in the kitchen and making an event of cleaning it up, even then it wasn’t enough notice-- but that was another story.

Zayn heard the door finally click to unlocked and Harry waited maybe the entirety of four seconds before he opened the door and burst into the flat like he tripped into it, apology beginning on his lips about interrupting-- but anything that he would have interrupted between him and Liam was done an hour ago.

He looked as surprised as Zayn probably did. Harry looked like he ran here, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the butterfly inked into his skin.

“You’re home early.” Zayn said after a second of terse silence. He glanced past his shoulder. “Where’s Niall?”

“At the club still.” Harry looked around, closing the door carefully behind him. It was a ridiculously well-mannered contrast to how he entered. “Where’s Liam?”

“Tucked in early for work tomorrow.”

He waited for an explanation for Harry’s state of… disarray. He was much more present for someone otherwise clearly inebriated. Harry didn’t say anything.

“Something happen?” Zayn prompted.

Harry swallowed. He looked at the door, looked back at Zayn, then the sofa he sat on. He moved forward as if remembering he came to get a jacket and then stuttered in his step when he realized he was yet to answer Zayn’s question. He finally decided to sit down with him, thigh brushing Zayn’s outstretched feet.

“Breathe?” Zayn suggested.

Harry did. Took one long, deep shuddering breath in, fingers steepled in thought as he rested his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hands. Did he and Niall get in a fight? Why did he have Niall’s keys? Shit, did Niall get in a barfight? Should he wake Liam? Wait. Harry didn’t say anything yet.

All of six silent seconds ticked by before Harry began, eyes closed in some kind of concentration. “Zayn, do you believe in destiny?”

“Oh.” So, that was a question he wasn’t high enough to answer. He closed his comic. “In what context?”

“In the context that the lad in my wallpaper is idling in the car outside waiting for me to get my jacket.” Harry didn’t budge from his position as if his response wasn’t one of the biggest mind fucks Zayn’s ever heard in his life.

“What?”

Harry finally opened his eyes, and shit, he wasn’t joking-- his eyes were glassy, and not just because of the alcohol, there were fucking tears rimming them. Harry got moved easily, sure, but what Zayn was seeing was his roommate completely out of his element, completely overwhelmed. “I think you’re right, Zayn.” he said, voice a bubbled murmur as if he was the most fragile thing, and right now the way Zayn saw it, he might well be. “Not just a parallel universe. I think this one too. I think-- I think I might be falling in love with him.”

When Zayn didn’t say anything, Harry put his face in his hands, as if to muffle a sob. “Oh God.”

Zayn was up so fast he knocked his graphic novel off his lap, moving swiftly to pull Harry into a hug. What. The. Fuck.

“Okay, okay, hold on.” Zayn was saying, holding Harry to him and rocking. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged helplessly. “It just kind of happened.”

That had to be the most shit response Zayn had heard as far as explanations went. He pressed his cheek against the top of Harry’s head, prodding him gently for details. “How did you meet?”

“The club.” Harry murmured into his hands, words sounding wet, “I spilled my drink on him on accident.”

Zayn smiled, it was pretty funny despite the situation.

“Then we talked on the roof,” he continued into his palms, “introduced him to Niall and Perrie and Denise and Allison.”

Zayn only knew two of those four names but he nodded anyway.

“Then I got drunk. Still am.”

“Yeah?” Zayn said with a smirk, as if Harry didn’t smell like a brewery.

“Yeah.” Harry humored him. “Drunk enough to try ‘n get between Allison and Louis on the dance floor.”

“Allison is who again?”

“Pretty blonde girl.” Harry pulled a tear-streaked and slightly red face from his hands to look at him, as if Zayn should obviously know who she is. “Perrie’s friend.” Realization dawned on him and he backtracked. “Oh. You didn’t meet her. Sorry. Well, she fancied Louis a bit.”

“Louis is your wallpaper?”

Harry went back to talking into his hands. “Yes. Louis is my wallpaper.”

“Okay I’m caught up. Continue.”

“So I stole Louis from Allison and Allison didn’t like that, and I’m a right prick, I am.”

“Why are you a prick?”

He looked up from his hands again, face annoyed that Zayn was having trouble keeping up, and in Zayn’s defense Harry was usually bad at telling stories, so adding alcohol was like adding loopholes to them. “Because I stole Louis.”

“But Louis wanted to dance with you, right?” It was a pretty surefire guess as far as Zayn was concerned, otherwise Louis wouldn’t be outside waiting for Harry right now if he didn’t like his company.

“Yeah.” Harry confirmed, but he didn’t seem too happy about it.

“So you didn’t steal anyone. Louis preferred to dance with you, so?”

“So I hurt Allison’s feelings.”

They were really getting off topic. Zayn steered it carefully back. “Did you and Louis leave the club after dancing?”

Harry nodded, brushing his long hair back and wiping his tears from his face with the back of his hand. “He was hungry so we’re on our way to Denny’s.”

“Who’s Denny?”

“Not Denny, Denny’s. It’s an American restaurant chain Louis lives by.”

“Ah.”

“And I like him. I really, really like him. Never felt this way about anyone, Zayn. Not this quickly. I think I might be really falling in love with him.” He added again. He looked pretty miserable about it. Zayn didn’t understand why, Harry was an absolute romantic, and as far as love stories went, having a romance so epic in one universe that it actually fiddled with this one, made a chance meeting happen with only two photos to show for it and despite everything going against them, timing, sexuality, distance, for fuck’s sake the man lives in _California_ and Harry lives in _England_. There was no reason they should have met once, let alone again-- that was as best as they came.

All these thoughts culminated to a very succinct, “So?” from Zayn.

“So, people don’t fall in love in a _day_ , Zayn--”

Zayn glanced at the clock nearby. “Closing in on the fourth hour, actually.”

Harry made a pained sound.

Zayn hugged Harry to him again. “Not going to lie to you, mate, you’re in a pretty unique situation here.”

“What do I do?”

Zayn shrugged, squeezing Harry’s shoulder protectively. This could easily go down as his least logical advice he’d ever given, but, even if it wasn’t love, this would probably become the most interesting night of Harry’s life. Harry had told him once while convincing Zayn to go to that stupid 70s themed party “Come on, Zayn, this’ll either be a good time or a good story!” and well, Zayn has had a lot more good times and good stories since then. Hopelessly romantic optimist, Harry was. He deserved the world.

“I think you should try.” Zayn said finally.

Harry sighed in a kind of exasperation. “Louis is straight.”

Zayn really, _really_ didn’t see the issue here. “You were straight.”

Harry, as expected, didn’t try to defend the issue, accepting that as easily as Zayn said it. “But Louis broke up with his _girl_ friend three months ago.”

“You dated exclusively women for twenty fucking one years, mate.”

It was like watching a light bulb flicker to life in Harry’s head. His lips twitched at the corner, spread into an outright grin. Adorable. And fuck Louis for being the male Harry realized he had feelings for. “That’s true.”

“And he’s waiting outside for you to get a jacket.”

Harry jumped out of Zayn’s embrace, literally scampering to look for a jacket in his suitcase.

He pulled out a jumper, not a jacket, and tugged it on, long messy hair getting even more mussed in the process. “Zayn,” Harry said as if a thought just occurred to him, “when I first saw him tonight, the world kind of stopped.”

Zayn smiled tightly, nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looked at him for a beat. “D’you want to meet him? He’s pretty amazing.”

When Harry was glowing, both from alcohol and from feeling so much, so deeply, it was impossible to tell him no. “I’d love to, Harry.”

* * *

The first thing Zayn noticed when they approached the car (engine turned off, headlights still on) was that there was a Spider-Man air freshener hanging from the mirror. And well, maybe this guy was all right.

Harry was walking beside him but as they got closer his footsteps started speeding up in tandem with the spread of his grin and before he probably knew it, he was outright jogging to the driver’s side. Harry’s hands were shoved in his pockets, shoulders going up in a shrug as he spoke with the man from the wallpaper-- Louis-- through the window, face hidden in shadow thanks to the glare of the headlights, and Harry made a vague gesture in Zayn’s direction as he walked up. Zayn didn’t run unless he had to.

“...friends, roommate, take me to meet your mum next?” Zayn heard Louis finish. He smiled a little at the witty commentary. Louis had a higher voice than he expected when he matched it with the face on Harry’s desktop.

“I’m sure she’d love you.” Harry was saying honestly. With that genuine sparkle of hope in his wide eyes that no one could miss, Zayn wouldn’t be surprised if Louis was halfway in love with Harry already.

“Hi,” Zayn started, when he was close enough to be heard without having to raise his voice. Louis shut the headlights off and Zayn’s eyes had to adjust to that too so he didn’t see Louis’s face yet as he heard him open the door and get out. “I’m Zayn.”

“Louis.”

When his eyes focused enough for the dim streetlight, he was looking at the living, breathing version of Harry’s computer background and even with the experience of meeting most of the models Harry shot with, it still came as a bit of a shock to find Louis was far better looking in person. Being photogenic was an actual thing, some faces just working better in two dimensions than others, and it took Zayn a couple seconds to take in the fact that Louis was not one of those people-- the camera failed to capture all the miniscule movements that Louis’s face did, how animated he was by simply standing. He was one of those people that vibrated with a kind of sincere enthusiasm, the type of person that walks into a room and people automatically gravitated to. Zayn was in his presence for all of ten seconds and he knew it. Harry always told him he had a good read on people-- for a change Zayn questioned how he got this read so fast.

“Am I doing this wrong?” Louis must have been holding his hand out for a good five seconds while Zayn had his internal monologue.

Zayn chuckled, shaking his head in apology as he reached forward to shake his hand. “Sorry, mate. Was distracted.” Harry watched their exchange with a quiet, enthused curiosity, smile never having left his face since he left the flat.

“Y’know, Harold said the same thing earlier. Something on my face and no one telling me?”

Zayn laughed, unable to help it. Harold? “No, but you might consider changing your shirt.” Zayn laughed even harder at that because he remembered Harry telling him he spilled a drink on his shirt.

“What, this?” Louis said, gesturing to the light brown stain all over his front. “A lovely souvenir from Harry. Why would I change it?” Zayn didn’t miss the way Louis’s arm unconsciously reached for Harry, hand pulling him closer by the waist and into a half-embrace. Harry leaned into him easily, smile burying into Louis’s hair and muffling his soft exhale of a chuckle. Sure, Harry was drunk but this was… this was something else.

If Zayn didn’t live with Harry, he would’ve thought Louis was his long time boyfriend.

Parallel universes. Huh. Who’d’ve thought?

“You could borrow one of my shirts if you want.” Zayn offered, liking the way Louis made his roommate smile. “We’re about the same size.”

Louis was smiling at Harry and they were trapped in their own world so Zayn waited for them to pay attention to him and when Louis looked at him to respond, his face was still tilted toward Harry like he couldn’t help himself. “Are the rest of your shirts anything like the one you’re wearing now?”

Zayn had to look down to know what he was talking about, and oh yeah, he had slipped his comic “POW!” shirt on after his second shower with Liam-- “Yeah. I have a Marvel three quarter sleeve you might like.”

Louis looked open to the idea, already tugging Harry forward toward Niall’s flat. “Yeah, thanks, that sounds great. It’s getting a little cold anyway. Sick tattoo by the way.

He knew which one Louis was talking about without even looking. Zayn brushed his finger along the “ZAP!” he got inked on his right forearm unconsciously, falling in step with Louis and Harry. “Thanks, mate.” Zayn smiled again. “What do you think of that reboot Sony’s doing for Spider-Man in 2017?”

Louis let out an abrupt laugh. “God, if they do one more origin film…”

Yeah, Zayn thought this guy was pretty all right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos is first time customers leaving a tip. Comments are returning customers saying the restaurant (me) is preparing delicious food (fic). Thank you for reading, this was one of my favorite chapters to write because I really like writing Zayn's limited POV (hence the prologue). Next weekend I'm uploading three more chapters, one of them my absolute faaaavorite chapter I wrote for this so hope to see you then.
> 
> Also! I am just about finished with a Harry Potter universe x 1D crossover Harry/Louis fic that is basically the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff so if you're into what you're seeing here, except with extra sugar on top, and you like Harry Potter, please look out for it. I plan on posting that this week before I upload the next three chapters of Sonder. =D Thanks again for reading!


	7. Pábitel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains artistic nudity, though not explicit, might not be sfw.

 

>   **pábitel** \- _(n.) a person fascinated by their own fate, in love with life, does and says unreasonable things, searches for beauty in the simplest objects and events, and likes to twist reality around to fit their liking; someone who proves life is worth living._

The shirt Zayn let Louis borrow was only slightly distracting. What had been more distracting was when Louis stripped his beer-stained shirt off revealing an intriguing amount of skin and ink that needed far more than two seconds of perusal before Zayn’s three quarter sleeve replaced it. Fortunately for Harry it had a scooped neckline (he didn’t know Zayn had such a shirt. Harry probably ranked somewhere in the lower percentile of most observant roommates) and when Louis leaned over and across the table at Denny’s to talk about the menu Harry got a generous view of the “It is what it is” sweeping from shoulder to shoulder and a curious “78” just beneath--

“Harry?” Louis was looking at him with an imperceptible smirk on his lips.

Harry coughed, making a show of suddenly being very interested in what Louis was pointing at. “Mm?”

“I said,” he repeated, smile widening, “they have a value menu on the back.” Louis definitely caught him staring. “But I’m paying so don’t look at that.”

Harry wasn’t about to apologize, Louis had a very nice… everything. Louis raised his eyebrows at Harry’s long gaze and Harry realized, right, still rude to stare. He cleared his throat again and Louis beamed. “Recommendations?” He prompted.

“Mm…” Louis wasn’t looking at the menu either, a smug kind of smirk gracing his lips as he crossed his arms over the table and leaned toward him in interest. “Point at something on the menu and I’ll tell you yay or nay.”

“Pancake puppies?” Harry asked, making a valiant effort to show how attentive he could be.

“Only six and it’s not very filling but anything more is a stomach ache so nay... Would you like dessert first, love?” Louis added when he caught Harry’s eyes pausing on the lava cakes.

“Erm, maybe later.” A title caught Harry’s eye, “Chicken and waffles?”

“Chicken and waffles? I’ll take you to Roscoe's for _real_ chicken and waffles--” Harry grinned and wondered if Louis noticed he was already agreeing to take Harry out again “--a Grand Slam is usually a good go-to. Many a sobering up done with a Grand Slam. You can also make your own, see?” he pointed at the menu, “America is all about variety.”

“Is that what you’re getting?”

“Yes.”

“Make it two then?”

The server came back with the drinks they ordered when they sat down, an apple juice and water for Harry and a milkshake for Louis, and while Louis made their order Harry took the opportunity to check a couple of the photos he took so far.

There was the most recent picture he took of Zayn laughing at something Louis said while he changed in Niall and Liam’s living room. A few taken while they walked down the block from the club to Louis’s car and Harry lingered on the one where Louis looked down in thought for a response to some question Harry must’ve asked. It was overexposed, the flash throwing Louis’s California-tanned skin into pale, eyelashes casting a pretty shadow over his cheekbones. Harry should invite Louis to a proper photoshoot one day... it was easy to imagine him-- head thrown back, eyes closed and smoke spilling from his mouth, bedsheets and skin dappled with the shadows of leaves outside the window and morning sun…

Harry scrolled through the photos a little quicker. There were a few he didn’t remember taking in the club itself: Niall pointing at him in mid sentence, then Niall grinning at Louis followed by a blur of bodies that had similar colored clothes that Niall and Louis wore.

“Good shots tonight?”

Oh. “Sorry.” He looked up from his camera and Louis smiled at him kindly, shaking his head in reassurance. The server was gone and there was no telling for how long.

“I don’t mind, really. Just didn’t want to be a creep staring at you without speaking.”

Harry laughed and Louis’s smile softened further, his voice matching. “It’s refreshing to see someone so absorbed.”

He wasn’t normally one to show anyone his raw footage, other than those he live edited for and Zayn who saw simply by virtue of being his roommate, but something about Louis’s open expression, the way he seemed so impressed with Harry and his camera, got him to lift the camera strap from behind his neck and ask him, “Would you like to see?” before he realized it.

He paused when Louis lifted his hand to stop him. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to. I know how personal photography is. Like a journal or diary or something.”

That was something he hadn’t heard before. “I… don’t think I mind?” It came out sounding more like a question than he intended, and he felt himself smiling at the end of it.

Louis rose an eyebrow skeptically, shifting to take his phone out from his pocket. “Do you have a website I can look at instead?” The way he said it gave Harry the impression that Louis knew he did, already confident in his abilities. The thought was flattering.

“Yeah, if you Google erm, Harry Styles Photography…”

“Harry Styles Photography? Styles is your last name?”

“Erm, yeah. Should be the first link that pops up.”

Louis was shaking his head in amusement, murmuring to himself as he tapped on his phone. “Styles? Really. Rock star name.”

Before Harry could form a retort Louis’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell.” he cursed softly. “You did this?”

“Oh, it’s nice, isn’t it?” Harry responded enthusiastically, leaning forward to get a look, “Zayn’s responsible for the minimalist layout designs across all social platforms--”

“Not the layout, H, _this_.”

Louis turned his phone and Harry was looking at one of his older shots that he took four years ago:

“Oh, Sara.” Harry said in delighted recognition, sentence caught in some old inside joke as he cocked his head a little to the side to better look at it. “We pulled her practically off the street while she was on holiday and it ended up in Vogue Italia.”

“Vogue _Italia_?” Louis repeated.

“Yeah. That’s four years old, though, are you looking through Google images?”

“ _Four_ years old?”

Harry really didn’t know why Louis kept repeating him. “Yeah. I just said that.”

“That means you were 19.”

“Yes.” Harry confirmed. He pressed the back button on Louis’s phone twice so he could properly navigate the screen to his website. “But the paid shots are a little stale… I think you might like my stories better.” Louis was just staring at him so Harry nudged his phone a little with the back of his hand. Louis snapped out of whatever trance he was in, looking impressed enough that Harry felt the back of his neck flush.

Louis’s fascination didn’t subside as he scrolled through the site Zayn formatted for him. He clicked on the story titled “Venice Beach” and Harry’s eyes flicked to Louis’s at the choice but Louis was too busy scrolling through the photos that faded in with each touch of his finger to notice. “These are great, Harry.” he murmured. He shifted the phone so Harry didn’t have to angle himself so much to see what he was looking at. “This one especially.”

“The framing, her expression, the colour.” He looked at Harry sideways, “It’s really a genuine moment.”

Harry nodded, drinking in Louis’s awe. “Yeah, I think it’s one of Kat’s favorites too.”

He watched as Louis thumbed through the list of his other stories, lighting up immediately when he chose one of his more recent shoots. “Her name is Veronica.” Harry gushed, “She’s in her thirties and has four kids.”

“She’s lovely.” The way Louis said it Harry was sure he meant it. Veronica was lovely, with a tapestry of tattoos draped like an inked cardigan, her skin bronzed with summer and her hair like autumn. Louis chuckled a little as he clicked one of her photos:

“And here I thought you were coming onto me asking for my pictures… You have a bit of a smoke kink, don’t you?”

“No, I just… I just like how it looks in the right light. Like how it plays with a person’s portrait. Smoke can add to a story as much as it could obscure...”

Harry trailed off, feeling a twinge of pleasure when Louis chose one of his nude photo shoots next. The way he flicked through his site as if he couldn’t get enough of Harry’s shots gave him a kind of inexplicable pride.

Louis was quiet as he looked at these, images of Elaine’s tanlines and sun-kissed skin against a simple backdrop of too-soft mattress and window blinds. He was quiet for so long Harry was beginning to think Louis was trying to come up with a way to let him down easy until he said, “These are… Really good, Harry.”

“Yeah, thanks.” When he spoke like that Zayn always said it was impossible to tell if Harry was asking or telling.

“It’s amazing, how you…” he left his sentence unfinished as he enlarged one of the photos:

“These aren’t sexual at all.” Louis said instead, looking at him.

“Yeah, well,” Harry agreed, meeting his gaze. “Women are powerful in any state and I play off of that. Some power comes from sex but I don’t think that’s the focus, it’s the person behind it… it’s the erm… the angle I think. The angle I choose to take the photos? Erm. I’m not sure.” Harry scratched his nose idly, “Not all nudity is sexual...”

“Do you pay all these women? You can see trust in all of your photos.” Louis’s eyes were really, very blue.

Harry bit his lip unconsciously, then remembered Louis asked him a question. “Erm. Well, they pay _me_ ,” he clarified, “in conversation and company. The photo stories-- those are my friends. I don’t put the photos people pay me for on my website.” Which was why the cover shoots and that Vogue Italia one weren’t on there. Felt disingenuous to his art and vision when there was money behind it.

Louis’s face made Harry feel like he was the most interesting person in the world. “That’s… loads of people must be thinking you’re having sex with all of them.”

“Yep. Loads.” Harry smirked, feeling a knee-jerk irritation that came with the assumption. “If I got a quid for every male that messaged and asked if I needed help holding a light or something…” He shook his head, and exhaled through his nose. “Idiots, the lot.”

Louis chuckled at that.

The server chose that exact moment to come back with their plates of food and it took a second, the server’s eyebrow raising in amusement, before Louis realized he held his phone out, screen still open with the nude shoot, in full view for Harry and in turn the server. He put the phone face down, and Harry might’ve imagined it but Louis looked miffed at the server’s wolfish grin. He put the plates down and left.

“You know what I like about your photos, Harry?” Louis asked as soon as the server was out of earshot, “Other than your enormous talent?” He picked up the maple syrup that came in a shot glass sized container and dumped the entirety of it on his pancakes without batting an eye.

“What?” Harry asked, pushing off the butter melting on the pancake aside and not adding any syrup on his.

“Every picture has a story. Their clothes and their poses are their accessories and you capture that projection. It’s a talent, that.”

Harry wondered idly where Louis learned how to talk. If acting taught him eloquence or if he was born with it, the quirks of his quick-witted language, the way his words stopped for the right amount of emphasis and then tumbled when excited and flowed soothingly when serious. He could listen to Louis talk all day.

“And the way you know about your subjects,” He continued, “your friends, by name and something you remember about them…” Louis started cutting his pancake with a butter knife, “I like your perspective on women, Harry.”

Harry smiled a little. “What? Not objectifying women? That should be the only perspective.”

Louis nodded seriously, chewing his food and continuing as soon as he swallowed, “One hundred percent, I agree.” He forked another piece of pancake, smaller this time, so he could talk around it. “It would be nice if my sisters could grow up in an environment where everyone thought like you.”

“Sisters?” Harry asked, covering his mouth where he had stuffed some sausage and eggs.

“Six.” Louis confirmed proudly. “Yourself?”

“I have an older sister.” Harry said, swallowing. He put his fork down and tugged his jumper off before pulling up his left sleeve to reveal his sister’s name tattooed in Hebrew. “Gemma.” He picked up his fork again.

Louis looked impressed. “You’re Jewish?” He reached out with his index to touch the tattoo.

“No, I just really appreciate the culture. Big family, that inviting warmth, the celebration of life…” His forked piece of pancake was halfway to his mouth when he trailed off as he felt Louis caress the inked skin with the back of his finger. Christ. Louis wasn’t trying to hit on him, he knew what flirting looked like, this wasn’t it, but _still_. Louis pulled his finger away and Harry hadn’t noticed his leg was bouncing until now.

“You got your sister’s name tattooed on you?” Louis asked him in that way that indicated he should elaborate, oblivious to Harry’s internal struggle.

“Twice.” He lifted his fork with the pancake before he put it in his mouth. “This is really good, might I add.”

“Right?” Louis agreed enthusiastically, forking his own piece of pancake into his mouth. “Where’s the other tattoo?”

Harry shifted to pull up his other sleeve to show off the lowercase “g” there. He finished chewing to explain, “It’s her first initial anyway. Mum’s first initial on the other shoulder.”

Louis beamed. “Aren’t you a dear?”

Harry smiled back, completed unashamed. “Wear your heart on your sleeve.”

Louis’s response was to pop half a sausage into his mouth and chew quickly, eyes crinkling in bemusement as he pointed at his right bicep. “Literally.” He swallowed. “Can’t see it, but under all this fabric is a heart.”

Harry’s smile widened into a grin and he turned his left arm to show his bicep and the anatomical heart tattoo.

“Soulmates.” Louis said simply, the warmth in his eyes illuminating the easy joke. “We’re soulmates.”

“I think so.” Harry responded, too honestly.

“Green Bay Packers?” Louis glanced at the American football team’s logo inked just beside Harry’s anatomical heart.

This night just kept getting better. “Yeah, you’re a fan too?”

Louis chuckled. “Maybe not soulmates then.”

Harry dropped his utensils in a dramatic clatter as he sat back into his seat. “Don’t tell me you’re a fucking Bears fan.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis laughed, “I almost want to be with that reaction.”

“Not a funny joke, Louis.” Harry said, smiling anyway as he took up eating again.

“More of a football fan myself. _Soccer_.” Louis added automatically. “Manchester United.”

“My dad loves Manchester United.”

“Oh good, we could keep talking then.”

Harry laughed. “Is the ‘78’ on your chest a favorite footballer’s number then?”

The crinkles at the corners of Louis’ eyes faded as Louis smiled down at his plate while he ate and answered. “My nan and granddad’s house number.”

The way Louis averted his eyes made Harry’s heart clench, let him know they weren’t around anymore. “I’m sorry.”

Louis shrugged and darted a quick reassuring glance to him before concentrating back on his plate. “It’s okay. They’re on my heart now.” He patted his left pectoral with the back of his hand casually. “Where they belong.”

It was such a gentle response, genuine and kind and Harry’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Do you miss home?”

“Doncaster? No.” Louis’s seemed to be enjoying some private inside joke of his, “Family? Yes.”

He stopped eating to point at the inside of his right bicep tracing some tattoo that lay unseen beneath the long sleeve. “I have a tattoo that says ‘Far Away’ here. Reminds me that even though I’m away from home, there’s somewhere I’ll always belong.” He moved his hand to point at the compass inked on his forearm, finger resting on where the arrow pointed to the ‘HOME’ etched there rather than north. “I reckon this one’s self-explanatory.”

Harry gestured to his ship tattoo on his left arm. “When I moved to London my mum used to send me care packages every other week for the first couple months. Every time I asked her what she’d want in my return care packages she’d say to ship myself home. It’s a bit tongue in cheek but, it made me miss home more, made me want a ship. That’s this.”

“Have a thing for nautical tattoos, H?” Louis asked around a mouthful of egg. Harry didn’t mind the nickname.

Their server came by to refill their waters, interrupting Harry halfway through his thought as he addressed Louis, “Anything else I can get you two? Desserts?”

“Oh, I’m fine-- Harry?”

Harry was confused by the question and then realized, “Oh. Err. I’m okay too.” He cleaned off most of his plate somewhere around Louis explaining his Far Away tattoo.

“Don’t be shy, Harry, I saw you looking at the lava cakes earlier.”

Harry chuckled. “No, it’s erm, it’s probably too sweet--” he insisted.

Louis gave him a pointed look and punctuated it with his fork. “Do you want a lava cake or not?”

Harry threw up his hands in mock defeat before putting his face in his palms and murmuring, “Yes.”

“Right then. A lava cake would be great.”

Harry heard the server assure them he’ll get it right away.

“Thank you,” he heard Louis say to him. “These grand slams taste really good.”

Harry heard the server leave and Harry pulled his face from his hands, beet red.

“Are you quite finished, Harold?” Louis said, arching a brow.

He laughed. “Really, you didn’t have to get me that.”

“It’s a cake, not a kitten, Harry.” Louis said, eyes warm. “Besides, I wanted to.”

Harry watched him, suddenly aware he was feeling very sober, and a little surprised he didn’t feel disappointed about it. “Thank you.”

“What were we going on about?”

In the future, when Harry would look back at this moment, he wouldn’t know what compelled him to say what he said next. “We were going on about how we’re going to the tattoo parlour after this.”

Louis blinked at him. “Are we now?”

“Only logical progression of events.” Harry responded mysteriously.

Louis gave him a long, measured look. Louis’s plate was as empty as Harry’s now. He picked his phone up from where he had left it face down earlier, tapping something into it out of Harry’s line of sight. “Say what you want about Los Angeles…” he murmured, the beginnings of a smile working onto his lips. He flipped his phone to show Harry the screen, “But where else would you find 24 hour tattoo shops with high Yelp reviews?

* * *

  
A/N: I'll be updating my next chapter tomorrow! The photos were not done by Mr. Harry Styles, but actually by my good friend and my favorite people photographer, AJ Garcia. I’ve been projecting a lot of AJ’s photography talent onto Harry and yes, that photo was picked up by Vogue Italia four years ago. He was wonderful enough to let me use these photos for this story and honestly if he said no I would’ve put no photos in this chapter simply because my idea of what Harry’s photography looks like in this universe is parallel with what AJ’s looks like. It is incredibly difficult to do what AJ does and he does it like breathing. Other than watching him shoot, I think it’s fascinating to watch him live edit. I’m gushing, but I’m just glad he thinks I’m cool enough to be part of circle of friends haha. To see more of AJ’s phenomenal work, including his lovely, lovely stories, check out his website [here](http://www.ajgarciaphotography.com/) or his tumblr [here](http://ajgarciaphotography.tumblr.com/). Contains nudity.


	8. Amor Vincit Omnia

 

 

 

> **amor vincit omnia** \- _(phr.) lit. “love conquers all”_

They got the lava cake to go and Harry ate it in the car compensating lack of fork with sticky fingers. Turned out Louis had a thing for musicals, couldn’t choose between dogs or cats (“Why do we even have to?”), enjoyed _The Walking Dead_ about as much as he loved _The Notebook_ , which was a really, really great coincidence considering that also happened to be Harry’s most watched movie of all time to the point Zayn banned it from being played as long as he was in the flat, and when Harry cracked a particularly good joke at stop signs, Louis had a habit of hiding his face behind his forearms as he laughed so hard and so breathlessly no sound came, arms clinging to the steering wheel as if it would grant stability for his shaking shoulders.

It was easy with Louis.

That should have been alarming but all Harry wanted to do was keep his attention for as long as he could.

The tattoo parlour was more zen than Harry anticipated. Beautiful minimalist decor designed by the shop’s tattoo artists lined each of their corresponding artist’s tattoo station to give clients a quick summary of style, and the walls were panelled with wood and had flooring to match that gave him the impression that this might’ve been a recording studio or a cozy, niche music venue once upon a time. R&B music was playing at a low volume that completed the vibe. There were only two other people in the shop when Louis entered, holding the door open for Harry, and then Louis insisted they reenact the moment again but this time Harry had to video it for documentation to show Niall he kept his promises. Harry nearly died laughing and it was on camera.

The man who greeted them again, as they entered the second time, was heavily tattooed but neatly dressed for three in the morning and was arranging paperwork at the podium that served as a kind of reception desk and the other was sweeping near the back of the shop and was in control of the music as he took a break to swipe through the iPod mounted on the player.

There was a loveseat near the entrance provided for waiting family, friends and clients, and even though there was plenty of room to spread out they squeezed together on one side as they flipped through an artist’s portfolio while they waited for Devx (“Now that is a proper tattoo artist name,” Louis remarked) to set up the stencils of Louis’s hastily scribbled “Hi” and Harry’s underlined “oops!” “Famous first words,” Harry joked, and it was a weak joke but Louis chuckled anyway.

They were in and out of the shop in half an hour, Harry’s handwritten “oops!” out of sight beneath the long sleeve high on Louis’s right inner bicep, and Harry couldn’t stop smiling as his fingers traced Louis’s handwriting through the clear wrap, inscribed forever beneath the crook of his left elbow.

They were driving aimlessly for a couple minutes, John Mayer’s cover of “Free Falling” playing through the speakers, before Harry broke the comfortable silence between them at the next light.

“It… doesn’t feel new, does it?”

Louis smiled cheekily. “Don’t know about yours, but mine’s still throbbing.” He watched Harry smile back at him for a moment before he went on more seriously, “No, it doesn’t feel new. Feels… right, though.”

Harry nodded, held Louis’s eye contact for as long as he was able before the light turned green and Louis had to tear his gaze away to keep driving.

The song ended and in that gap before the next song began they rolled to a stop light and Louis looked at him, really looked at him, shoulder turned into his seat so most of his body could face Harry’s as best as it could. “Listen, Harry, are you tired? Do you want to go back to Niall’s?”

“No.”

“To which question?”

“Both.”

Louis seemed to have expected that answer but the corners of his lips quirked upward anyway. “Do you want to talk somewhere?”

“Anywhere.”

Instead of driving any further he turned the car into the curb and threw it into park and Harry felt the car shudder as Louis turned the engine off.

They were in some suburban part of Los Angeles as far as Harry could tell and he was about to settle in for the possibility of a long, philosophical talk in the car when Louis opened his car door. “When’s the last time you were on a swing?”

“Err..?”

Louis chuckled. “Come on, Harold.” He shut his door.

It took a second to understand Louis’s meaning but when he got out he saw what Louis was walking toward: a children’s playground, bathed in streetlight.

* * *

 

A cool night breeze ripped through his clothes and he mulled over why he took his jumper off in the first place when he remembered-- right, to get a tattoo.

The swings were damp from sprinklers or a light rain from earlier-- California was weird, perfectly dry in one area of the city and then raining in the next and it was _August_ , late August sure, but wasn’t it supposed to be sunny and dry? Louis merely tilted the swing to one side to let the excess droplets drip off before jumping to sit on it. Harry did the same to the swing next to his. He squirmed when he felt the remainder of the water that didn’t roll off soak through his trousers, but Louis was challenging him to a swinging contest and that was an issue to dote on later. The shorter man didn’t exactly _say_ it was a contest but the way he kept looking over with a smirk and kicking his legs harder in tandem with Harry was a challenge he didn’t need words to accept.

“Come on, Curly!” Louis jeered.

_Curly?_

“Put those long legs to some use!” Louis was winning. Marginally. That needed to be remedied.

“I’ve lost focus!”

Louis chuckled, breath fogging in the air. “How?”

“My arse is wet!” Harry complained.

Louis chuckle broke into an all out laugh which got him off rhythm enough for Harry to match him swing for swing.

“Foul play, Harold!”

“Sounds like the words of a sore loser to me.”

“I’m not a sore loser--” Louis timed his jump off the swing and landed on his feet some distance away, a little out of breath, streetlights outlining his frame. “ _You’re_ the sore loser.” His grin was distracting and left Harry vulnerable to getting sand kicked into his shoes and all over his trousers when he swung forward to Louis.

Harry gasped in shock and Louis cackled as he ran away, kicking more sand in Harry’s direction as Harry stumbled out of his swing in his haste to get back at him. “Hey!”

He nearly tripped as he grabbed fistfulls of sand and ran after the older man through the jungle gym. Louis grabbed hold of a ladder bar and was climbing quickly but it left his arse as the perfect target to throw sand at while he made his ascent and Louis gave a startled laugh when some of the sand got down past his waistband.

“Truce! Truce!” Louis cried trying to slap the sand and Harry’s hands away one handed while he clung to the ladder.

“No truce!” Harry declared, grabbing more sand and throwing it through a fit of giggles. “Only surrender!”

Louis suddenly turned and vaulted off the ladder, “Never!”

Harry just had enough time to squeal-- actually squeal-- and duck away as Louis landed beside him and did a perfect football push kick of sand all over Harry’s front.

“Louis!” Harry scolded breathlessly through a grin, “What if I had my camera? It would’ve been fucking ruined!”

“It’s a good thing you left it in the car then--” he push kicked more sand in his direction and then squeaked when Harry moved to grab him, and it was only when there was a sound of ripping fabric, Harry’s hand yanking at the hem of the older man’s long sleeve shirt as Louis turned to run away-- that they froze.

Harry let go immediately. “Oops.”

Louis’s eyebrows rose in bemusement as he inspected the shirt’s seams for tears. “You couldn’t just spill a drink on my shirt, you have to rip Zayn’s too?”

“Don’t know my own strength.” Harry joked sheepishly as he stepped closer to help check. “Truce then?”

Louis barked an abrupt laugh, still inspecting. “You know, if you don’t tell him I don’t think Zayn will notice.”

They spent the next ten minutes sitting on the edge of the roundabout shaking out clothes and emptying shoes among giggles and playful, but harmless kicks of sand in each other’s direction. Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew they were lying next to each other on the platform of the roundabout staring at the dark sky and talking about their lives. There were too many clouds for it to be counted as stargazing, but it came close.

“...I just don’t think anyone’s a good enough reason to give up on your dreams.” Louis was saying into the night. The world was so still Harry could see the gentle rise and fall of Louis’s chest as he breathed. “My drama teacher in college? Only teacher I liked there-- all the other teachers hated me, said I’d amount to nothing-- but it was my drama teacher who believed in me. Told me if anyone makes you choose between love or work to always choose work. He used to talk about how his mum was the greatest opera singer in the world, full ride to some incredible university in Italy but his dad made her choose between moving to the States with him or getting a divorce. She chose him. And the world is duller for it.”

“Is that why you left for California then?” Harry asked, eyes tracing Louis’s profile, “You’re on the run from some crazy ex-lover?”

Louis’s eyes widened dramatically, head turning to face him with exaggerated haste. “Oh God, did she send you? I knew tonight was too good to be true.”

Harry laughed and Louis smiled back fondly, settling back into the roundabout like it was comfortable.

“Tell me about why you left for real.” Harry said to the cloudy sky.

“I told you already. Glitz and glamour.”

“Not the after school special, Chop Suey.”

Louis chortled. “Chop Suey?”

Harry ignored him, Louis had been calling him nicknames all night, Chop Suey rhymed with Louis, it was clever, kind of. Harry rolled up onto his side to look at him, propping himself on his elbow. “I want the whole story. Why’d you leave?”

Louis glanced at him and it was too quick for Harry to read into what it meant. “Not everyone has a dark, mysterious past, _Harold_.”

“Exactly what someone with a dark, mysterious past would say.”

Louis chuckled. “You know if I told you I’d have to kill you, right? For finding out my alter ego?”

“It would be an honor to be killed by Spider-Man.”

Louis laughed. “I’m telling you, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Harry shook his head gently, eyes intent. “No I won’t.”

Louis gave him a long look as if he wasn’t sure if he could take him seriously. He humored him anyway. “I’m the oldest of six sisters and a little brother. But it was before Doris and Ernest were born so it was just me, my five sisters and my mum. We weren’t like, struggling, but money was sort of tight, right?”

Harry could only imagine. He nodded in encouragement for him to continue.

“So I had this dream of being this massive actor and help the family. Never worry about money again. I enjoyed it, and my drama teacher thought I had a lot of potential and my mum had a lot of faith in me and I know that doesn’t mean much because it’s your mum-- like, she’s going to support you. But my mum’s been nothing but honest and we’re more like best friends than proper mum and son and she wouldn’t lie to me. I started working soon as I could, odd jobs, babysitting, anything that didn’t get in the way of rehearsals so I could save up enough to up and move to LA. Kind of fucked with my marks but I figured, I’m going to be this big shot actor, I won’t need to go to some posh uni anyway.”

Harry smirked as Louis winked at him. He continued seamlessly, “So I saved enough by 18, drama teacher hooked me up with some contacts here in LA, my mum cried and I nearly didn’t go, but she said if I didn’t she’d have to kick me out.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “As luck would have it, I landed my first lead role in a small, well-paying theater only a month after I moved.”

“That’s amazing, Louis.”

Louis smiled tightly at him and Harry was struck with the impression there was a ‘but’ somewhere there that Louis was yet to get to. “Thanks. I thought so too. Sent most of my income home, my mum was so fucking proud I’ll never forget it.” He stretched, gaze far away to the sky. “I was quick to learn, though, that even if you ‘make it’ one time, shell out half your remaining income on a top notch agent, your destiny isn’t charted and you still have to keep auditioning, and most of the time you don’t land anything.” He chuckled and it was astonishingly light for the direction the story was beginning to take, “I was living off ramen and was two weeks away from eviction before my friend finally convinced me to get over myself and just take the server job her dad’s been offering to me for months. I resisted until the last possible second. Some fucked up sense of pride I had, didn’t want to be like every other struggling actor story. I was so sure I was different.” Louis shook his head, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I was fortunate the position was still open. Really fortunate. I don’t thank her enough, you know-- Oh don’t look so sad, Harold.”

Harry didn’t realize he was frowning.

Louis rested a comforting hand on his bicep and squeezed lightly. “It _sounds_ like a sad story but it isn’t. It taught me adaptability, to never take anyone or anything for granted, and most importantly, things are never as bad as you make them out to be. I could have gone home at any time, my mum married a bloody doctor while I was away--” Louis chuckled, “I really don’t think money is much of an issue anymore. But I just chose not to go home. I didn’t want to admit to my mum how hard it was, not when she was so proud. And I’m glad I didn’t-- I was back on my feet in a month. Sure, I don’t get to audition as often because I have work, but I still land roles, and my boss is cool, let’s me have a flexible schedule. My boss and his daughter-- my friend-- though? They were there for the hardest times so they’ll be there for me when I break Hollywood.”

Harry felt himself smiling as Louis went on, “Sometimes life takes you to unexpected places, but that doesn’t mean it’s a path different from your dreams. All roads lead to the same destination.”

It was really amazing how much beauty can come from one person. Harry thought Louis could become his favorite person in the world, if he gave him the chance.

“That’s… really,” Harry began and decided that was a mess so he started over altogether, “I really admire you, Louis.”

Louis rose his eyebrows at him. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from someone so inspiring.”

“Inspiring?”

Louis rolled his eyes at him. “You’ve got to be joking, Harry. Published by Vogue Italia at 19? Declined a fashion photography career that would have paid more hourly than I make in an entire day, relocation expenses to New York all paid for-- because you wanted to go for a higher education? You just never lost sight of what mattered to you. Even when the money was literally in your face. And you’re _still_ doing photography on top of full-time study for two degrees. You’re bloody Superman.”

Harry felt an inexplicable mixture of flattery and gratitude that Louis remembered all of that from earlier in their conversation. He didn’t think he was saying anything, really, figured he was talking in circles like so many of friends claimed he was when he told a story.

“Well, if I’m Superman you’re…” Harry said the first superhero he could think of, “The Flash.”

Louis smirked. “The Flash? Why?”

Harry blinked at him, a sheepish grin making its way on his face. He should have stuck with Spider-Man. “Because you... get stuff done?”

Louis burst into laughter. “I get the impression that Zayn is the resident comic book reader.”

Harry rolled from his side and onto his back. “Points for trying?”

“Points for trying.” Louis agreed.

They talked about home, and music, and how they believed in each other’s hopes and aspirations, then a short segue into why countries could afford war but couldn’t afford to clothe and feed the impoverished-- about where they were a year ago and how neither of them could have expected to be here a year later, in a children’s park near four in the morning, laying on a roundabout with fresh tattoos that promised forever, when they didn’t even know what that meant.

They lay in silence watching the clouds roll by and it seemed like it might rain.

“So,” Louis’s voice began, and Harry turned his head to look at him. Louis was still observing the sky. “How is your girlfriend back home, Harry?”

Harry threw him a half smile at the random question. “Erm, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“No girlfriend?” The arch of Louis’s eyebrow didn’t quite match the curve of his lips. “The injustice of the world.”

It was Harry’s turn to be amused. “Why’s that an injustice?”

“Riddle me this, _Harold_ ,” and Louis rolled his head to finally meet Harry’s eyes, let him see how he meant each of his next words through the eye contact. “How’s it that a charming, talented, gold-hearted and exceedingly attractive--” (Harry laughed at that) “--long haired, _curly_ bloke hasn’t got a beautiful bird at home?”

Harry turned back onto his side to face him now, which moved him a couple centimeters even closer, and he was doing a terrible job at being subtle or suave or smooth or anything, but Louis was hitting on him, wasn’t he? Please let him be. “Because he’s too busy with university and freelance work to give...erm, someone, the proper attention... they, deserve?” That was a bit of a train wreck.

“He’s not looking then?” He could feel Louis’s gaze like a physical weight and it made it hard for him to breathe, quickened the beat of his heart. How can someone be _this_ beautiful?

“That depends on if you are.”

The rain had chosen that moment to start-- big fat droplets hitting Harry’s cheek the same time he saw one fall onto Louis’s brow. They both looked up at the sky as if asking it a wordless “really?” and in answer the rain started falling quicker and Harry let out a surprised laugh.

“Come on!” Louis was already standing, shielding his head ineffectively with a forearm as he offered a free hand to Harry. Harry took it and Louis hauled him up, tugging him to the closest shelter from the rain which Louis seemed to think was the tube slide.

He ran up into it, Harry in tow, their laughter mingling at the incredulity of the situation-- Louis trying as hard as he could to backwards crab walk up to the middle of the tube slide, shoes slipping as he tried to make more room for Harry, while Harry tried his best to get his long legs under the shelter of the slide and still hold Louis’s hand. It ended with Louis’s arms around Harry’s shoulders, Harry’s back to Louis’s chest, Louis’s legs splayed uncomfortably to either side of the taller man in front of him and squeezed against him as a kind of makeshift stop, while Harry pulled his legs as best as he could to his body with the limited space. It was a valiant effort, but his trousers and shoes were still getting wet. They were shaking with laughter, the sound morphed with the hollow acoustics of the slide, which made Harry laugh even harder and in turn made Louis do so too.

“You know, I don’t think a children’s tube slide is supposed to protect two grown men from the rain.” Harry said in between breaths. “I would not follow you during a zombie apocalypse.”

Louis was practically wheezing into Harry’s neck, he was laughing so hard. “I live in fucking LA, my plan is to be dead anyway.”

“I think that’s a solid contingency plan.” Harry joked, “One hundred percent success rate.” Louis just about choked in his mirth at that. Their laughter finally subsided and they watched the rain fall quietly together, Harry wrapped in Louis’s arms, the sound of droplets pittering soothingly above them.

“I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” Harry murmured into the quiet.

He felt Louis shift behind him, arms tightening around his shoulders imperceptibly. “Me too.”

There was a puddle growing at the bottom of the slide and Harry wiggled his shoes a little into it, making delightful little splashing noises that made Louis smile.

“D’you think…” Harry licked his lips. “D’you think we met before?”

“You know we did.” Then after a half second Louis added with more uncertainty, “Do you not remember Venice Beach?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I mean, before that? Like, maybe another life or something?”

Louis was quiet for a beat. Two. He was quiet for so long Harry was about to rephrase the question when Louis said, “I think that’s the only way this night could make sense.”

Harry grinned, traces of a conversation with Zayn that felt like a lifetime ago filtering to the front of his mind: _‘You’re the one in love with him in some parallel world.’_

“This is kind of surreal, isn’t it?” Harry murmured.

“Sort of.”

“I hope we had better taste in tattoos in the other life.” Harry joked.

Louis’s voice was soft. “I hope not.”

Harry turned slightly to look at Louis over his shoulder and found Louis was close-- so close his breath ruffled the hair at his cheeks, could see the exact moment Louis decided to lean in to kiss him. Harry’s eyes closed and in that gentle darkness he felt the slight scrape of stubble at odds with the gentle, soft press of Louis’s lips. The kiss was warm, close-mouthed, and there were no fireworks, no sound of angels singing, and the universe didn’t suddenly make sense, but there was a click, a click like two puzzles finally, finally aligning and-- the angle was awkward and a little painful in the crowded tube slide so Harry had to pull away to give his neck a break and he chuckled a little breathlessly in a kind of apology. Louis shook his head softly, the look on his face impossibly fond and open as he tucked a stray curl behind Harry’s ear and Harry’s heart ached a little, hoped he looked half as in love with Louis as Louis did with him at that moment.

He could feel Louis’s fingers slide from his hair to trace the edge of his jawline, thumb pressing into his cheek and Harry moved into the touch. He had a wonderful way with caresses. “What are we doing?” Louis whispered, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Falling in love, I think.” Harry whispered back, as if the chance of their voices being louder than the rain might ruin this moment.

Louis shook his head again, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I think I’m well past that stage to be completely honest.”

Harry didn’t expect that. He didn’t expect that at all. He hadn’t even dared to hope--

“God, look at you. You’re glowing.”

Harry laughed, wondered where he got the air from to do so; he felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of him. In his defense, Louis was glowing too.

“Rain’s slowed.” Louis said, eyes flicking outside for the first time since Harry turned to look at him. “Let’s make a break for the car.”

Harry shimmied out of the slide, doing his best to avoid the puddle that pooled near his shoes and Louis followed him.

Louis reached for Harry’s hand and tugged him back to him at the foot of the slide so they faced each other, the rain dewing in their hair and on their clothes. “Can I kiss you again?” Louis asked, “Like proper kiss?”

Harry gave him a full, dimpled smile. “You really, really don’t have to ask.”

Louis cocked his head at him and it was an unbearably cute quirk that made Harry a little weak. How many layers Louis had, and how wonderful it was to know he had the rest of his life to get to know them all. “‘Course I do.” Louis’s free hand ran through Harry’s hair again and he unconsciously leaned down into it, forehead bumping into Louis’s, completely and happily pliant to his touch,

“Then the answer is yes, of course, always.”

He laughed as he tilted Harry’s face to him and the kiss didn’t work out as well, lips too taut as they vibrated against each other with suppressed laughter, until they pulled apart and collapsed into giggles in each other’s arms.

The rain was starting to pick up again and Harry could see raindrops dotting Louis’s eyelashes. He wanted to kiss them as much as he wanted to keep them. He left his camera under his jumper.

“We’ll try again later.” Louis teased, ignorant to Harry’s internal struggle. They walked back to the car, bumping shoulders and fingers catching too many times to count, until finally their hands twined and they didn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It maaaay be subtle, but this entire fic is actually a really elaborate love song to southern California and all it's quirks like that rare rain when you least expect it. The true OTP in this is author x California. I've been overseas for nearly half a year now and I miss home. haha! Kudos and comments are the only way fanfic authors get paid. <3 See you all tomorrow for the RBB update-- I mean-- chapter 9 update. *cough*


	9. Hiraeth

> **hiraeth** \- _(n.) a homesickness for a place you can never return to, a place which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for lost places of your past._

“But chicken _and_ waffles?” Harry was exclaiming around a grin from the passenger seat.

“Yes!” Louis insisted, hitting his steering wheel to drive the point home, but his voice was too enthusiastic for him to be truly frustrated. “Don’t you know the rule? The shadier the establishment, the better tasting the food. And whoever invented the combination is a culinary genius who conspires against health nuts. I love Roscoe’s.”

Harry was keen on the challenge. “So we’re going tomorrow then?”

“Fuck yeah we are. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“What, in two hours?” It was just past five in the morning but Harry wasn’t about to complain.

Louis laughed. “I’m flattered, but I meant dinner. I’m known for my classy taste in date-night restaurants.”

Harry laughed. From what Louis had told him so far Roscoe's was no five star restaurant.

“In fact,” Louis said, giving him a pointed, minute tilt of his head, “I’d reckon Nialler agrees on Roscoe's too--”

“Nialler?” Harry smirked. Did Louis rename everyone he met?

“--and if he doesn’t we need to remedy that anyway so you should bring him. We can make it a party. A boy’s night out, not that there was anything wrong with Perrie and Allison and Denise, all lovely girls, just miss the companionship of lads from home, right? Bring your roommate, Zayn, was it--”

“And Liam?”

“Who’s Liam? Yes he can come too.” He said it in one breath without a second in between the sentences which made Harry laugh.

“He’s Niall’s roommate. He’s from Wolverhampton.”

“Wolverhampton? Home of Billy Wright?” Louis clarified.

Harry didn’t know who that was. “Sure?”

“I like him already.”

Louis was hyper with his passion and Harry didn’t know where all this energy was coming from but it was fascinating to watch. Louis glanced at him, a small smile tweaking his lips as he caught him staring. He exited the freeway with one hand on the wheel, the other one deliberately sliding to lay face up on the armrest console between them and when Harry’s eyes darted to his open palm Louis’s middle finger twitched twice in invitation. Harry closed his eyes for a second, a short exhale of something between bashfulness and incredulity escaping his mouth as he looked away to hide his really huge, embarrassingly difficult to suppress grin, thumb and forefinger going to his face to smooth his brows in unison as if he just got hit with a headache. Harry slipped his hand atop Louis’s.

He could see Louis reflected in the window and Louis was smiling, smiling, smiling.

“What? We’ve been holding hands all night. Why the sudden shyness, Harold?”

“God.” It was one thing to feel it and another entirely to be called out on it. “I dunno.”

“Look at you. Like a schoolboy all over again.”

“I’ll have you know I’m still a student.” He murmured, still refusing to turn to look at Louis and content to just watch his reflection.

Louis snorted and he could feel Louis’s grip tighten in his. “Is that supposed to help your cause? A year from getting your degree, right?”

Harry didn’t say anything, still focused on the fact that Louis’s hand was smaller, but solid, warm and far more calloused. Right he probably played football…

Louis misinterpreted the silence. “I’m _teasing_ you, Harry. Look at me?”

Harry noticed they were at a stop sign near Niall’s street, which explained why they hadn’t moved for near a minute. He smiled tightly as if to brace himself and then looked at him as casually as he could muster under the circumstances. His hand felt good. Firm. Distracting.

It was with this hand that Louis lifted Harry’s to his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed as his mouth pressed tenderly into his knuckles, stayed there-- _Oh_.-- and Harry wanted to melt into his seat at the same time Louis breathed life into him. Louis finally looked up at him through his lashes-- he was the most gorgeous person in the world, he really, really was, what was he doing here with Harry?-- but his lips were still on his hand and he ran his lips from Harry’s knuckles, to the back of his palm to press a kiss there, to the softness between his thumb and index finger, eyes never pulling from Harry’s all the while. He replaced his kisses with his other hand, cupping Harry’s in both of his, chin and cheek resting gently against his fingers so his breath ghosted against his skin as he spoke.

“You don’t have to be shy.” Louis smiled a little and it was welcoming, affectionate, felt like coming home, “I mean, well, you could be if you want to be, there isn’t anything wrong with being shy. But you don’t need to feel shy or embarrassed, ever, around me. I think you’re easily the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” Harry might’ve let out a small sigh. Louis continued, amused, “And I have a feeling you get better with age?”

“Like wine?” Harry asked, suddenly finding his voice for the opportunity to be cheeky.

“Yes. But better tasting.”

“I think we’re soulmates.” Harry said, not caring what it sounded like, if it came off desperate or naive.

Suddenly there was a blare of a horn behind them, startlingly them both. Louis looked at his rearview mirror in irritation, “Who the fuck’s awake at this time?” His eyes blinked at the garish high beams filling the car and Harry had to squint too. “Go the fuck around me!”

Louis pulled one hand from Harry’s and rolled the window down halfway to make a flippant gesture to the driver to go around. “Around, around, come on!”

The driver behind finally got the hint and went around, yelling something about emergency lights and asshole, but Louis wasn’t paying attention and Harry was busy laughing.

“Los Angeles, city of mood killers.” Louis said tightly. He gave Harry’s hand an affectionate squeeze before continuing to drive one handed.

Harry grinned. “But hey, at least you have 24 hour tattoo parlours.”

Louis chuckled in agreement. “At least we have 24 hour tattoo parlours.”

They arrived in front of Niall’s flat not long after, still holding hands with the radio playing a song on Louis’s playlist Harry didn’t recognize, which was refreshing. Harry wasn’t quite ready for the night to end, even with the promise of seeing each other tonight at Roscoe's. Louis seemed to feel it too because he parallel parked the car along the curb and let go of Harry’s hand with a last imparting squeeze before he turned the engine off, music cutting abruptly with it. Harry went to grab his camera from the floor. Louis drummed his fingers against the armrest console.

“I don’t want to go home.” Harry said into the sudden silence.

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

“No, I meant, I don’t want to go back to London.”

Louis straightened at that, fingers stopping. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” and Harry licked his lips, eyes flicking to Louis, “I want to stay here. With you. I want to move to LA.”

Louis looked at him as if Harry just told him he was running away to join the circus. He kind of was, in some ways.

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis said, rubbing his face with his left hand as if trying to physically scrub his thoughts into place. “You’re serious.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah.”

“This-- this is impossible.”

“I know.” Harry’s voice was soft but his excitement just as palpable. His hand reached out tentatively to rest alongside Louis’s on the armrest, his left pinkie just brushing Louis’s right. “What are the chances?”

“No, I mean,” Louis’s eyes darted to where the skin barely, barely touched-- when he swallowed it was visible at his throat. He shifted imperceptibly away, “I think it’s a bad idea.”

And--

That--

Well, that wasn’t really… that didn’t make sense.

“Why?”

Louis let out an exasperated laugh, stress morphing it into something nervous, unrecognizable. He pulled his hand away completely. Harry furrowed a brow.

“Harry,” Louis began as if he didn’t know where to begin. “We have separate lives. Outside of-- of this, whatever this is.”

“So I’ll quit university.”

“That’s stupid. You can’t just _quit_ university.”

“Then I’ll transfer my credits.”

“Don’t be unrealistic--”

“I’m being serious.”

There was an abrupt silence as Louis quietly regarded him and Harry didn’t think two years was that much of an age gap, but the way Louis looked at him right now-- it was like Harry was a young child who really didn’t understand what he was saying.

“What? It’s not that impossible.” Harry pushed.

“Okay, let’s say you move here. Find a sponsorship for a visa. What about your family? Friends? They’re not two hours away, they’re an ocean and a continent away. What about funds? Healthcare? You have to pay for that here. Transportation? You need a car to function in California. I only have the one, I’d help you get one of course--” Louis stopped, half sighing, half chuckling at the situation and fell back into his seat. Louis looked at him for a moment and when he smiled it didn’t reach his eyes, didn’t sit quite right on his face. “Harry… you just met me.”

Louis might as well have slapped him in the face. “You…” Harry began, completely baffled by the response. “You know that’s not true. Stop acting like this is so easy to give up.”

“You’ve lived without me for 21 years.”

Harry couldn’t believe this. “And now that I’ve met you how the fuck do you expect I could live without you for the rest of it?”

Louis didn’t say anything. Harry thought maybe it was an opening. He took his phone, thumbing the passcode quickly and shoved the screen in Louis’s face so he could see his mobile wallpaper-- the same as his desktop’s. Louis’s gaze dropped to it and held.

“And after you explain that, then explain to me how I took a picture of a stranger last year and couldn’t stop thinking about him? Thought about ‘im so much he became my desktop wallpaper and my mobile background? Explain to me, how I knew I’ve known him before I met him. Explain to me why he looked at me that day. Explain to me how I could have possibly met him again. Explain to me this _fucking_ night--”

“I don’t fucking know, Jesus, Harry-- maybe these things just happen--”

“Bullshit!” And Harry’s voice was loud, unnecessarily so. He retracted his phone, shook it for emphasis, “These things don’t just happen, Louis. You can’t expect me to believe we have it like everyone else.”

The car was so loud after his sudden outburst Harry could feel the silence ringing in his ears. He continued more calmly. “I know you feel it too. This is different. Something else. It’s--” And Harry was frustrated with his lack of vocabulary, wasn’t even sure if there was anyone with a vocabulary great enough to encapsulate what was happening between them, what this even was. How many people have said ‘different’ to describe a love they shared with someone? How many people met their soulmate in not one universe but two? This was the stuff of storybooks. Of rom coms and movie scripts. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Zayn’s voice, strangely clear: _‘Maybe in another life, you meet? That the reason you feel this way, is that somewhere, someplace, your love is so strong it transcends, you know?’_

“--It is what it is.” Louis finished for him, smiling a little sadly.

Harry could see parts of those tattooed words, peeking out from above the neckline of Louis’s borrowed shirt, quoted back at him like it was the mantra of Louis’s life. And maybe it was. How the fuck would he know? Louis was right in a way, they did just officially meet. Like seven hours ago. Fuck. In hindsight this all seemed impossible. If he took a step back, none of this should’ve happened at all. In love? In seven hours? If it didn’t happen to them he wouldn’t believe it either. He looked away and out the window, holding a shaking hand to his mouth. He needed a drink.

“Be realistic, Harry.” In his peripheral Harry could see Louis watching something outside the windshield, as if the alternative of looking at Harry was so much harder. “I can’t have you up and move for me.”

“Why not?”

“You barely know me.”

“I’ve got the rest of my life to get to know you.”

Yeah, Harry was being difficult. But he was sure. He was so sure. He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

Louis was shaking his head. “You have all this going for you. A degree you’re close to finishing. A good job with no shortage of clients. A great living situation, judging how you can just take trips with your roommate to California. A great social circle from what I can tell with how everyone dotes on you. You’re… you’re incredible, Harry. Don’t throw it away for some flight of fancy.”

“Is that what you think? You think I _fancy_ you?”

Louis had moved to staring out his window now, face hard to see from that angle. “I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore.” He was so _calm_. How could he be taking this so well? Harry had to bite his fucking lip to keep from crying, Jesus.

“I _love_ you, Louis.” This was definitely not how he pictured his confession to be like. “I would give up everything for you.”

Louis didn’t say anything for a moment. He reached up to rub something out of his eye and it was only when he heard Louis sniff that he realized-- Louis was crying too.

“And that’s exactly the problem.” Louis inhaled deeply, exhaled slow. “You shouldn’t give up all of yourself to anyone, ever. You need to finish your degree, Harry.” Harry didn’t know what was more frustrating: that he knew, deep inside, that Louis was right, or that Louis wouldn’t look at him. “You need to finish your education like you said you always wanted to. And if whatever this is, is meant to be, then I’ll still be around when you’re done.”

Harry really hated that Louis said “if.”

Louis wiped his eye with the heel of his palm, shifting as if he came to some kind of resolution. He hated that Louis was crying. He wanted to hug him, or hold his hand, or just touch him-- make it go away-- but didn’t know if Louis would let him, and right now Harry didn’t think he could handle Louis rejecting him further. Louis’s eyes were still rimmed with tears when he turned his car back on, looking at him through a watery smile. “I have work in a couple hours.”

“You have work tomorrow?” Harry’s words lilted with unexpected surprise, his emotions flopping uncomfortably with the topic change, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because...” he left the ‘I wanted to be with you’ left unsaid. “I lost track of time? Listen, I’ll pick you guys up for Roscoe's tomorrow-- err tonight-- alright?”

“Oh, that’s still on then?” Even to Harry it sounded annoyed.

Louis looked at him, face withdrawn and when he smiled it looked forced and hesitant. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? Unless you don’t want to?” It was soft enough that Harry felt guilty for being nippy at a weak moment.

He was still going to raid Niall’s wine cabinet.

He opened the car door. “We’ll be ready at 7.” He got out of the car and shut it, and it took all his willpower to not look over his shoulder to watch Louis drive off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, what a note to leave on until my next update lol~ Next update is Friday and Saturday. But maybe sooner if comments/kudos get convincing lol~ until then see you next weekend! =D Thanks so much for reading.


	10. Erlebnis

> **erlebnis** - _(n.) an experience that one feels most deeply, and, in a sense, ‘lives through’ -- not just mere life experience, but something memorable which happens to someone._

There was a small sliver of curtain Zayn didn’t close all the way last night and he was paying for it by getting a sunbeam in the face. He was ignoring it for an impressive fifteen minutes before wondering why he even bothered trying to fall back asleep when he was clearly jet-lagged and had been awake with closed eyes for what was probably half an hour. Still, he might’ve tugged the curtain a bit aggressively in retaliation which only led to the rest of it following suit as it swung forward and let sunlight stream in from the opposite side. He was not going to wrestle with a piece of fucking fabric; it could win this one. At least the light had moved from his eyes to his feet and left this side of the living room in relative dimness as he rolled off the sofa in favor of getting a glass of water. The clock read 6:44 AM.

The kitchen light was still on which was less weird after he found Harry sitting on the kitchen floor with his legs sprawled out, wearing the same outfit as last night, half a bottle of wine next to him and a freshly wrapped tattoo on his forearm.

Zayn stepped over and around him to get a glass from the cupboard and they continued to pretend they didn’t notice each other while Zayn filled the glass with water from the tap. He gave the lukewarm water a tentative sip-- yeah, tastes just like water-- and made himself comfortable by leaning on the counter across from Harry to ask, “A little early for drinking? Or is the night still going strong?”

Harry replied without looking at him, voice as faraway as his expression. “It’s 5 PM back home.”

Zayn glanced at the stove clock. It was 6:48 AM, meaning 3 PM in England but he didn’t bother to correct Harry as he moved to sit down next to him on the floor, wine bottle between them, sipping his water in his thin white shirt and sweats while Harry stared into the abyss in a half open button down and skinny jeans still smelling like last night’s cologne. There were worse mornings Zayn found Harry in. Only once before did it involve a bottle of wine, and the tattoo thing was new, but at least Zayn knew what this was about.

“You know,” he began after Harry brought the wine bottle up to his lips, “if he drives you to drink all the time, cool as he is, I don’t think I like him as much.”

Harry chuckled and the sound was strained.

Zayn continued, wedging his glass between his thighs and Harry mirrored him with the wine, “He’s cute, but not that cute. No one in the world is worth that kind of abuse. Fuck destiny.”

Harry was nodding and Zayn took comfort in knowing that that much still held true between them on the topic of love. He and Harry had a long talk a couple years back, when Harry first started uni and Zayn was still doing internships, about what they witnessed between their respective divorced parents, especially as boys who were raised almost exclusively by their mothers. The conversation ended in lots of hugging and even more tears.

They were quiet for a few seconds, Harry playing with the liquid in the bottle as he tilted it back and forth, Zayn contemplating getting back up to close the curtain properly because from this angle he could still see its asymmetrical positioning and it kind of unreasonably annoyed him.

“I’m in love with him.” Harry blurted out. It didn’t sound watered down by alcohol at all. More bizarre was how unsurprised Zayn was by this declaration. He was nodding like Harry was just moments before and had to consciously stop himself.

“Yeah?” He took a sip of his water.

“Yeah.”

Harry seemed bored with the wine and recorked it, settling the bottle between them again. Zayn handed him his still almost-full glass and Harry took it wordlessly.

“How does he feel about you?” Even as he asked Zayn already figured the answer.

“Mutual.” Harry tipped water into his mouth and swallowed. “We’ve discussed it.”

Zayn nodded, expecting as much. He watched Harry stare glumly at the counter before them, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts and work them into some semblance of order and when Harry pulled his thighs up to his chest, arms over his knees, hand dangling the glass in the way that made it look more whiskey than water, Zayn knew Harry was ready to talk.

“He said it was a bad idea to up and move for him--”

“Probably.”

“--that quitting university was even stupider--”

“Very.”

“--and that it was unrealistic to go and transfer all my credits to a university here--”

Zayn didn’t say anything so Harry stopped his sentence short to clarify, “Do you think it’s unrealistic?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know enough about American universities to have an opinion.”

Harry let out a long exhale through his nose as he leaned his head back against the wall.

They sat in silence again for about two beats.

“Why doesn’t he move for you?” Zayn asked, the words out of his mouth before he realized he thought of them. “What does he do anyway?”

“He’s an actor. Well, struggling actor. He’s a server the rest of the time.”

“Well, one of you,” Zayn cocked his head at him to emphasize his point, “has more permanent attachments than the other. Louis can find the same kind of work back home where you’re attending your number one choice for education plus a stable job-- and I don’t mean to be the antagonist in your telenovela but you also share a lease with me and I can’t exactly pay rent by myself.”

Harry didn’t say anything, then, “Probably a bad time to tell you I cancelled my return flight.”

“What? Are you serious!”

“No.”

Zayn visibly relaxed. “Jesus, I was about to say--”

“Maybe.”

Zayn gaped at him and Harry’s lips spread from a smirk and into an outright laugh and Zayn kind of wanted to punch him.

“You know I love you,” Zayn was saying while Harry was caught in between his second wave of giggles, “but your sense of humor is shit, babe.”

“You love it.”

“No, no, I really don’t.” The malice behind his statement was betrayed by the way his lips were quirking into a smile.

They heard the sound of a toilet flush from the master bedroom-- Niall’s room-- and they both unconsciously stiffened as the floorboards creaked with age and Niall’s weight while he crossed his floor. There was a dull thump of him falling back into his bed and they waited a tense couple seconds before visibly relaxing again.

Zayn continued, lower, “Are you going to tell me about your new tattoo then?”

Harry moved his arm so Zayn could see the new ink more clearly through the wrap.

“‘Hi.’” Zayn read aloud.

“First word he said to me.” Harry clarified with the most ridiculous fond expression on his face.

“How impulsive.” He smiled anyway and leaned back on the wall. “What’s his say?”

“‘Oops!’” Harry replied sheepishly and Zayn laughed, consciously lowering the volume. “How’d you know he got one too?’

“Good guess,” Zayn replied automatically. “He was with you probably, and the way you said it’s the first word he said to you, seemed only fair…” he trailed off, furrowing a brow with his quick explanation and backtracked, “You know, to be honest I didn’t think any of those things I said just now, I just said them. I didn’t guess. I don’t know how I knew he got a tattoo too. I just knew.” He looked at Harry as if he could find a reason on his face.

Harry shrugged a little. “Parallel universes, right?” a smile played on his lips, “Maybe you’re in one with us too.”

“God, I hope not.” Zayn smirked. “It’s enough to deal with your sense of humor in one universe, let alone _two_.”

“Hey.” Harry shoved him lightly and Zayn shoved him back, quickly steadying him when he nearly spilled the water.

Harry continued, “Wanna know how we first kissed?” His eyes were twinkling and Zayn was fast getting used to Harry’s eyes doing that when it came to Louis.

“Only if it was terrible.”

“You’ll think it’s cute."

Harry knew him too well. Zayn sighed. “Are we talking _The Notebook_ cute or Disney movie cute?”

“Disney movie, you hate _The Notebook_.” Harry looked at him like he was affronted Zayn even asked the question.

“Just checking. Tell me then.”

“In a children’s park, at the bottom of a tube slide. He pulled me into the slide with him. Sort of just sat there with his arms around me… Jesus, Zayn, he feels so… so right,” Zayn raised an eyebrow, Harry ignored him, “We were talking about...well, I kind of forgot what we were saying because his eyes are so blue.” He ignored Zayn’s exasperated moan too, “Then he just leaned over my shoulder and spontaneously kissed me--”

“You said it wasn’t _The Notebook_.” Zayn interrupted.

“It wasn’t!”

“Was there rain?”

“...Yes.”

“ _The Notebook_.”

Harry huffed and Zayn had a feeling it had more to do with him comparing the kiss to something he didn’t like, rather than offense at indirectly calling the kiss excessively romantic. Because it was. “I don’t know why you hate _The Notebook_ so much. It’s probably the best romance in film for our generation.”

“I don’t hate _it_ , I hate the pedestal it’s put on like, it’s not the best movi--” Zayn stopped himself short, the gravity of what Harry said hitting him just now-- Harry liked _The Notebook_ , sure, watched it whenever Zayn was out the room even, but Harry never felt obligated to defend it before. He looked at Harry in a kind of irritated disbelief. “What, did Louis tell you that?”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“God, it’s his favorite chick flick or something, innit?”

Harry smiled.

Zayn groaned. “I don’t care if he agrees Donald Glover would make the best Spider-Man. It’s not worth it. I hate him. Tell him I hate him, will you?”

“Honestly, Zayn, I think you two would get on.”

Zayn ran a hand over his face. “Should I be expecting a third flatmate?”

Harry didn’t look like he had considered the idea before. His expression turned speculative. “It would be easier on the rent?”

“Okay, this really needs more than--” Zayn looked at the stove clock again, “twenty minutes of discussion immediately after a night of whirlwind romance--”

“It wasn’t _just_ a night.”

“You left for the club with Niall at like 9. It’s nearly a quarter past 7. Ten hours, Harry, and that’s generous. Ten. And you’ve been awake for over double that. Sleep on this.”

Harry was nodding as if that was the first sensible thing he had heard all day, and judging from the night he had and how Zayn generally wasn’t an ace conversationalist before the tea was brewed, he couldn’t blame him.

Harry froze, eyes darting toward the door and Zayn unconsciously mirrored him, quickly following his gaze, “It just occurred to me--” Harry said suddenly.

“What?”

“I didn’t get his number.”

Zayn deflated. False alarm. New question: was he always this quick to jump to conclusions like ‘Harry heard a person breaking into Liam and Niall’s flat,’ or did that just come with being Harry’s roommate for three years? More importantly, how did Harry not get the number of a man fate’s been playing matchmaker for across time and space? There was clearly a glitch in the system.

Zayn just blinked at him, and Harry looked just as shocked. Then the tension left his shoulders and he smiled in relief,

“It’s okay, Niall has it. I can sleep now.”

Zayn rubbed his brow-- that didn’t used to be a stress gesture. Harry got up and turned to offer him a hand.

“No, thanks,” Zayn said, smiling up at him, “Floor feels kind of nice. Think I might just eat breakfast down here.”

“Thanks, Zayn.” Harry leaned down to grab the wine bottle off the floor and put it away. “I think I won the lottery for roommate bingo. Got a best friend out of it.”

Zayn laughed. The gaming hybrid didn’t exist but he appreciated the sentiment. “Love you too, babe. Now go sleep before Liam and Niall wake up and grill you for answers.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe the last chapter is going to be posted tomorrow? Can you believe their final show of OTRA is tomorrow (well today in my part of the world but I'm posting based on California time lol)? Thanks so much for reading this far, really! =D
> 
> \--
> 
> Something to note that one of my betas pointed out: I know in our universe Zayn has both parents in his life. But in this universe I wanted him and Harry to hold this kind of connection and ability to relate to one another, so there you go. Choices made in the name of plot and character development. =D


	11. Redamancy

 

 

 

> **redamancy** \- _(n.) a love returned in full; the act of loving the one who loves you._

Niall, Liam and Zayn all said yes of course.

Niall loved Roscoe’s and Liam swore by it and as soon as Liam was on board Zayn was suddenly interested. Harry needed to remember to ask Zayn for details about what was happening with that-- there was significantly less sexual tension in the flat since yesterday but an undercurrent of attraction in the air any time Zayn and Liam were in the same confined space together. Harry was looking forward to this being something of a Burning Man reunion.

“You should let Zayn draw wings on your back again,” Harry commented idly while handing the plate he just dried to Niall.

Niall balanced the dish atop his stack and turned to open the cupboard and put them away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry smirked.

“You lads almost ready to go?” Liam asked, appearing in the kitchen tying his tie. He had an open leather jacket over a white dress shirt tucked into black trousers and his beard was freshly trimmed and hair immaculate. He looked exceptional. Oh. So maybe Roscoe’s was more classy and Louis hadn’t been joking?

“Erm…” Harry began, shirtless and still in Niall’s apron.

“It’s barely a quarter to six, Liam,” Niall told the plates on the shelf as he stacked them, “don’t give Harry a heart attack.”

“Oh, Harry, you don’t have to do those.” Liam made his way into the small kitchen and it really wasn’t made for three grown men to be cantering around. “Here, give me the dishtowel, I’ll take over--”

Niall turned and nearly dropped the bowl he was holding. “Are we going to a red carpet event after or something, what’s that get up for?”

All right, so maybe Roscoe’s wasn’t classy.

Liam shrugged sheepishly, tugging the dishtowel out of Harry’s hand despite his protest (“It’s all right, we’re almost finished.”) that was lost among Liam’s louder explanation to his flatmate. “Just thought I’d look nice is all.”

Niall wasn’t convinced. “No,  _I_ look nice. _I_ look dressed for chicken and waffles in my sensible t-shirt and jeans. You look like GQ Man of the Year and it’s rude to upstage Harry when--”

“I’m done with the toilet, Harry, if-- oh, Liam, you look nice,” Zayn said from the kitchen entrance, as if he wasn’t dressed like he stepped off the runway of men’s fashion week in all-black attire consisting of fitted trousers, a tucked in button down with rolled up sleeves to his elbows that he filled in so well it looked custom and the Rolex he got from his dad last year as his only accessory. His hair was messy and whether or not he did that on purpose it balanced out his look.

Niall spoke for all of them. “Jesus.”

Zayn blinked, confused by their speechless reaction. He must have been wearing contacts because his glasses weren’t on. “Is it too much? I could go change if--”

“No, no, no--” Niall, Harry and Liam all hurried to say at once. Niall passed the bowl to Liam, already leaving the kitchen, “I’m just going to go change.”

“Me too.” Harry was quick to add, untying the apron and leaving it on the counter as he passed Zayn.

* * *

Harry was nervous to say the least. He should have showered slower. As it stands he was ready fifteen minutes ago and couldn’t find enough excuses to keep checking his reflection in the mirror or touching his hair. To stop the habit he pulled it up into a bun and to avoid pacing while Niall asked for outfit suggestions he lounged on the sofa and opened the graphic novel Zayn left out on his suitcase. _Sandman_ , was it? Didn’t matter, he was reading the same panel over and over without actually absorbing anything.

After rifling through Niall’s “formal wear collection” of six dress shirts, Harry went with the maroon one to coordinate with the white trousers he brought from home and sunglasses perched on his head that balanced the bun. It wasn’t going to be sunny for that much longer but Niall had insisted it matched his look and California was _made_ for him.

And now there was half an hour left before Louis would be at the flat and Harry was stuck between wishing time sped up and hit 7 already or slowed down because his mind was taking a determined but exhaustive sprint to squeeze in as much anxiety in the next half hour as possible.

Harry didn’t know where Louis stood now, what he was thinking, how he was feeling, if he felt the same, if he changed his mind, maybe, and thought this could work. If he hadn’t wanted to try he wouldn’t have made sure they were still seeing each other tonight right? With friends? Did he want to just be friends? Could they just be friends? What time was it? Okay, literally a minute since he last checked. His new tattoo itched. He slapped it a little to placate the irritation. Did Louis get enough rest before work? Did he go straight to work after they talked? He didn’t specify when he had to go in. What if he didn’t get any rest at all? Shit. They should just postpone the entire thing--

“Niall,” Harry called from the sofa, “do you think I could ring Louis? I don’t have his number though, can I call him on your phone?”

Niall’s voice was a little muffled from his room where he was still getting ready. “Err, sure, but he’s coming in like twenty minutes or something right?”

“I was thinking we could reschedule?” There was a knock at the door and Harry could have sworn Liam and Zayn just left for a smoke. Harry got up, graphic novel still in hand as he projected across the flat and opened the door, “He had work today and I think he barely slept!” His eyes turned back to Zayn and Liam and-- _God_.

He should really start checking the peephole.

“Oh good, so Niall was serious,” Louis said with a small smile, hands casually in his pockets. He gave Harry a deliberate once over that made Harry feel really thankful about going with the maroon shirt. “You look incredible.”

Harry was a little at a loss for words. Louis was very good looking, yes, that had been well established all throughout last night, but in the sun? Louis _glowed_. Louis’s tanned skin and blue eyes and easy bed head were like a tribute to every beautiful California summer day. The light breeze and late afternoon sunshine played highlights through his hair and his smile was the quick flit of untouchable, addictive energy that LA thrummed with-- he was so beautiful. Harry’s shock finally caught up with him. “You’re early.”

“Thank you?”

Harry felt himself flush. “I mean, you’re...” Harry’s gaze went up and down the cut of Louis’s form fitting blazer, the peek of a long sleeve layered beneath, the rolled up dark dress jeans and grey suede shoes rounding out the effortless autumn fashion. “...incredible,” Harry swallowed. Louis’s smile widened, and that was really, very, extremely distracting, “erm, you, look incredible... too.”

Louis seemed pleased with Harry’s bumbling wreck of a reaction. “Niall is proving himself a fantastic friend already by not letting me come underdressed. For chicken and waffles.”

Harry laughed, surprised at the sudden ease Louis drew him into. His anxiety was completely, blissfully gone with his presence. Did he make everyone feel like this? Louis’s gaze lingered a little long, eyes dipping to his mouth. Harry licked them unconsciously.

“Erm,” Harry moved aside to allow him entrance, “Do you want to come in?”

“No, erm, actually.” He pulled a hand out of his trouser pocket, scratching his temple a little idly, “My intentions aren’t so innocent. I’ve been thinking. All day. Was hoping we could chat for a bit before we go? If you have a minute. Or a couple. For a walk?” His eyes flicked to Harry’s hand. “Unless you were busy reading?”

Harry put down Zayn’s graphic novel on the sofa armrest immediately. “Yeah, of course, wasn’t getting that into it anyway.”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t just insult one of the best graphic novels of all time.”

Harry grinned. “I’ll try again later?”

“Yes you will.” Louis jerked a head toward the stairs. “But before that, walk with me?”

“Of course, just a sec-- Niall,” he called back into the flat, “I’m just--”

“I heard.” Niall appeared from where he was just out of view in the hallway. “Go for your walk. I’ll let Liam and Zayn know.”

Harry gave him a weird look and Louis mirrored it over his shoulder.

“What?” Niall looked down at himself like he might’ve forgotten trousers. He looked dashing in his plain white tee over skinny black trousers complete with leather jacket, hair styled into an effortless quiff. “You said to go with this outfit, Harry.”

“No not that--” Harry began.

“You look great actually,” Louis assured from over his shoulder as Harry continued,

“--were you hiding out of sight the entire time?”

Niall shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets and not looking the least bit guilty. “Yeah, you asked to ring Louis so I was coming over to give you his number. Then I heard you talking to him so, decided to stick around. See what was up.”

“I believe the term you’re looking for, Nialler, is eavesdropping,” Louis supplied helpfully.

“It’s my flat.” Niall was grinning, charmed by the new nickname. “Also I would have missed the cute conversation between you two. You look good by the way, Louis.”

“Thanks, man. Also for the memo on the attire.”

“No problem.”

They all stared at each other for a beat.

“Don’t you two have a romantic walk to go on or something?”

“Right. Harry?”

“Oh.” Harry nodded, stepping hastily past the doorway and closed the door behind him.

* * *

They walked in silence down the steps, Zayn and Liam nowhere in sight. The world was bathed in purples, pinks and peaches, a result of California sunsets on a day after rain. There were a lot of stereotypes about California and some were exaggerated, others were outright false, but say nothing about their sunsets. They deserved every compliment people gave them.

They made it to the sidewalk just outside the flat, and Harry could see where Louis’s car was parked against the curb. The street was mostly empty, save for a car or two passing by. He decided to open the conversation first, matching Louis’s leisurely stroll.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Louis said quickly. He kicked a pebble in their path and they both watched it bounce off into the pavement. “You? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, yeah.”

They lapsed into a silence again.

Harry said, “Did you get sleep--” as Louis began, “Liam’s a cool guy--” and they cut themselves off at the same time.

Harry smiled in amusement at the sudden awkwardness and Louis shrugged returning the smile in kind.

“You first.” Louis offered.

“After you.”

Louis stuffed his hands in his pockets, beginning anew. “Liam seems cool.”

“You’ve met?”

“Yeah, he and Zayn were making a run to the gas station a couple minutes ago. Zayn introduced us. Are they an item?”

Harry frowned. “I dunno.”

“Don’t think they know either.”

He didn’t feel like speculating about his roommate’s love life right now. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Running on five hours but I’ve had less. No worries, Hazza.”

Another nickname. “You sure you don’t want to go home and rest up more? We could reschedule to tomorrow.”

“Jesus, no. And give up chicken and waffles when I’m dressed for the Grammy’s?”

Harry snickered.

Louis smiled. Their pace slowed to a stop, Louis turning to sit on the curb of the sidewalk. The wind blew at his hair and Louis adjusted his fringe distractedly as he spoke.

“I wanted to call you last night.” His eyes moved to follow a car pass by. “But ten minutes is not long enough to miss someone and I couldn’t justify it.”

“A whole ten minutes?” Harry sat next to him. His tone was teasing but his heart wasn’t into it. “I’m insulted. I downed half of Niall’s wine by then.”

Louis chuckled but Harry had a feeling it had more to do with trying to lighten the mood than actually thinking Harry’s joke was funny. “Trying to forget me already?” Then he added more seriously, “M’sorry.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s done. Just, you know, never do it again.”

When Louis laughed this time he meant it. The sound tugged at the corners of Harry’s lips, made his heart beat a little faster.

“I won’t.” The way Louis said that made it sound like a promise.

“Also you couldn’t have called me anyway.” Harry added in afterthought. “I didn’t give you my number.”

Louis barked a laugh. “Jesus. You’re right. How’d you not give me your number yet?”

“Dunno.” Harry cocked his head minutely, “Probably forgot somewhere in between getting a tattoo and finding my soulmate kind of thing. How’s yours by the way?”

“Harry Styles? He’s incredible.” Louis said with a perfectly candid face. “Most interesting person that’s ever happened to me.”

“Smooth.” Harry couldn’t contain his smile. “I meant your tattoo.”

“ _Oh_.” Louis rose his eyebrows as if to say ‘why didn’t you just say so?’ “Itchy. Poor choice of location getting it so close to my pits, you know?”

Harry snorted and Louis grinned. Their eyes held a little long and Louis looked away in favor of the rapidly changing color of the skyline as the sun dipped lower and lower beneath clouds and behind suburban houses casting the world in oranges and pinks. “About last night…” Louis began.

“You mean this morning?”

Louis smiled tightly, more an exasperated smirk than anything else. “Yes, this morning.”

Harry nodded in satisfaction. They both watched as a teenager skated by, fast food bag in one hand, phone in the other. “What is there to say?”

Louis breathed in deeply and on his exhalation his cheeks puffed out as if preparing himself mentally for whatever blow he was about to give. Whatever thought he was about to drive home that Harry didn’t exhaust enough in his head already. “It’s a bit complex, really.” Louis said by way of opening. He didn’t continue on though, as if he was wrestling how to explain what it might mean to be just friends because a long distance anything might be too hard.

Harry decided to interject first. “Louis, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Louis seemed relieved by the distraction. “Anything.”

Harry took a deep breath and then rocked forward, casually crossing his forearms over his knees. “Why do people always talk about relationships like they’re endable?” He looked at Louis and Louis was still in the same position, eyes faraway. “What I’m asking is,” Harry continued, “If it’s working, then you should keep going, but if it’s not working, _then_ you should talk about it being endable… but, don’t talk about it beforehand.” Zayn always made fun of him for using more words than necessary. “I mean, it’s… you’re sort of setting it up for failure before it even failed.”

Louis was silent for a moment. “Never quite thought of it that way, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“I guess people, even the most optimistic of people, are just afraid of being hurt. That they need to have some kind of fall back, they don’t want to go all in and so they sort of, stupidly, I suppose, plan on things to not work out. That way when--”

“If.”

“Yes,” Louis agreed placatingly, “ _If_ , it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t hurt so much because you’re already halfway to prepared.”

Harry nodded, following Louis’s gaze to the sunset sinking past the houses. “Okay. But isn’t that a half kind of love?”

“I don’t follow.”

“So, like, what you’re describing is a fear of pain or being vulnerable,” He looked back at Louis, “but isn’t that what love is all about? Diving all in, being vulnerable, giving it your all? Isn’t the beauty of love all about the trust that someone cares enough about you that they completely trust they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you? Not on purpose anyway.”

“A part of it at least, yeah.”

Harry furrowed a brow. “Then why…?”

Louis sighed, running a hand through his hair and mussing it. “It’s complicated, Harry.”

“Two people in love. Simplest thing in the world.”

“Yes, which is--” Louis inhaled sharply and then said all at once “--Harry, I booked a flight to London next month.”

Harry was a thought behind into his last response and it took him a moment to fully absorb what Louis just said. Even after he absorbed it he wasn’t quite sure he heard correctly. “What?”

“Yeah.” Louis shrugged and gave him something between a shy smile and a smirk. “I guess a bit of your torrid optimism rubbed off on me.”

“You’re coming to London?”

“In a month, yeah.” Harry watched as Louis picked up a small rock from the pavement and threw it. They watched it land somewhere across the street, he hadn’t put much arm into it. Louis looked at him. “And if you’re still interested I’d really, really like to see you.”

“How long will you be staying?”

“It’s one way.”

Harry didn’t say anything, just kind of stared at him.

Louis swallowed, and continued just to fill the silence that settled in limbo between them. “That’s why I need a month, right? Gives me time to get sorted. Figure some paperwork, talk to my bank, see about a transfer at work...or a two week’s notice. Haven’t even notified my mum yet. Lease is month-to-month so that’ll be easy, but I still have to think about my car--”

“You’re… you’re moving?” The shock was wearing off and it was like watching the sunrise dawn on Harry’s face, a brilliant contrast to the cooling colors as dusk settled in around them.

Louis smiled back, almost as surprised as Harry seemed to be. “That was the plan, yeah.”

“To the UK?” Harry repeated. His eyes were so, so bright.

“To home, yeah. To you.”

Harry didn’t think, just moved. He practically tackled him onto the pavement, arms encircling Louis’s neck and knocking a surprised chuckle out of him as Louis wrapped his arms around his waist.

Louis was moving.

_Louis was moving._

Louis was moving to be with him.

“I take it this is good news for you?”

“You’re such a wanker.” Harry murmured into neck and Louis laughed while Harry talked over the joyous sound, “You’re a fucking wanker and you’re amazing.”

* * *

Niall, Liam and Zayn were all waiting around Louis’s car by the time they returned and Harry was impressed Zayn recognized what Louis’s car looked like in the day when he remembered, right, it’s hard to miss the Spider-Man air freshener.

“Sorted!” Niall declared from where he leaned on Louis’s car door as soon as he caught sight of them. “Harry’s the lead vocalist.”

Harry gave him an easy smile, catching the joke easily. “Is it because I’m the only one in color?”

Zayn who was lounging next to Niall laughed and Liam turned around once dramatically before doing a short catwalk toward Louis and Harry as they approached.

“We’ve got that monotone coordination.” Liam popped his collar unnecessarily for optimal male model effect.

“Louis do you play bass?” Zayn asked giving him a quick once over. “We’re forming a band.”

“I don’t. But I play a mean triangle. Car’s open, lads.”

“Bad habit that, leaving your doors unlocked.”

“They’d be doing me a favor, Liam, if they stole this car.”

They all laughed, Harry maybe a little harder than everyone else. Harry was so in love. He was so fucked.

Liam opened the door closest to him and Harry moved around the hood of the car to get to the passenger side, his confusion when Louis followed him abated after the older man swiftly cut in front of Harry to get the door for him. Harry thanked him with a wide grin and for a second Louis was so close Harry thought he might lean in for a kiss but Louis just gave him a wink and placed a hand at the small of his back to guide him into the car. He closed the door gently after him.

“Okay, that was cute.” Niall said from the seat behind Harry.

“You guys are quite cute.” Zayn agreed in the middle next to Niall. Liam placed a hand on Zayn’s thigh and leaned in to whisper something in his ear as Louis got into the driver’s seat.

“I am clearly the fifth wheel here,” Niall announced as he glanced from Liam’s hand to the fond gaze Harry was giving Louis as he clicked his seatbelt into place. “I’m not even mad.”

“Seatbelts.” Louis interjected and the entire car was filled with the sound of bodies shifting around and seatbelt clicking as Liam sniped a reply to his flatmate.

“Niall, it really isn’t our fault your type is straight and unavailable. You are setting yourself up to meet no one, ever.”

“That’s not true. I moved to LA, didn’t I? I’m just waiting for the stars to align and I finally run into Justin Bieber. It’ll happen.”

“Are you lads ready to go?” Louis asked, looking like a real life advertisement for the aviators he cooly adjusted on the bridge of his nose.

Liam, Niall, and Harry chirped variations of assent and Zayn made a completely off topic comment about how this car was probably the best smelling car he’s ever been in. Five men wearing expensive cologne? Of course it was.

Louis turned the ignition and the car suddenly filled with the cool vibes of “[Everyday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtZBA1bVbcs)” by A$AP Rocky. Liam immediately put up one hand to motion waves with his fingers, “Sick choice, Louis.”

“This is literally the best day of my life.” Niall commented. “Sun’s going down, music is on fucking point, and I’m crammed in a car full of gorgeous, queer men--”

“I’m not sure yet,” Zayn interjected.

“No, babe, you’re definitely sure,” Liam reassured, patting Zayn’s knee comfortingly as Louis pulled away from the curb.

“Does it count if Louis is the only male I’ve ever been attracted to?”

“Second that. Except in terms of Harry of course--”

“As I was saying,” Niall reiterated over the commotion, “crammed in a car full of _gorgeous, queer men_ \--”

“So is, Roscoe’s like, a really nice restaurant in downtown LA?” Zayn asked suddenly.

Niall and Liam snickered on either side of him.

“What?” Zayn said looking around for someone to explain a joke he didn’t catch.

“Sure, Zayn,” Louis was grinning. “Five stars. Windows down boys, get some sun on your skin!”

“Mine’s stuck.”

“Everyone but Liam, get some sun on your skin!”

The car burst into laughter and Harry turned up the music. He agreed with Niall, this was the best day ever.

 

[[FIN]]

 

* * *

 

 

> **Author's note** : AND that's it! Please leave a comment if you liked it. Even if it's just like "Good job," but if you're shy, a kudos would be extremely appreciated. It's the only way fic writers get paid. Oh-- if you liked it enough to share on tumblr, here's a [link](http://live-he-says.tumblr.com/post/132306132884/sonder-by-yoshi09-live-he-says-chapters-1111) to do so. Wish me luck on NaNoWriMo. Also, more importantly, could you FUCKING BELIEVE that Larry hugged tonight? My heart stopped during the livestream. Still buzzing.
> 
>  ([x](http://lourryetc.tumblr.com/post/132301150230))
> 
> And because I can't get enough have one more:
> 
>  ([x](http://jimmytfallon.tumblr.com/post/132300321542/1031))


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